


Past Is Prologue

by bazaar, golari



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, F/F, tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaar/pseuds/bazaar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/golari/pseuds/golari
Summary: Lost souls always seem to find each other, often without looking. Korra and Asami are very young and very lonely, but a couple scraped knees and a parent-teacher conference find them as friends. For them and the stragglers they meet along the way, things are always good… until they’re not.Don’t let anyone say that growing pains don’t really hurt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that’s been over two years in the making.

Korra's social justice crusade began on the playground at six years old.

She may not have had any friends to back her up, but what she _did_ have was a big mouth and a pair of meaty fists. And yes, Mommy had told her to use her words, but why would she _talk_ to this booger-faced meanie when she could just punch him?

The problem was that bullying was an unpleasant experience Korra was all too familiar with. She was six, which was apparently too old an age to still have her baby fat—a pudgy belly and a round face. Both features her parents found " _adorable_." She didn’t want to be _adorable_ , she just wanted to have a friend. Just one person she could confide in among the slew of bullies she had to handle at Republic City Elementary. Dealing with the jokes and the laughter was tough, but as she'd told herself a million times in the mirror, flexing the muscles she didn’t have yet, she was _tougher._

That was why, with an indignant frown, she stomped over to where the dumb boy was laughing and pointing and being terrible to a girl sitting on the steps of the schoolhouse. The girl’s knees were pulled up to her chest, her head buried between them—she looked so small. As Korra approached, she noticed that the girl's shoulders were shaking, and even though she couldn’t see her face, she could tell that the other girl was crying. Whether the tears were from the teasing or from something else, Korra didn’t know.

What she _did_ know was that this jerk was going to get what was coming to him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing, jerkface?" _Perfect,_ she thought. _I sound just like a hero._

The boy looked up from his teasing, and it unsettled her to find that his eyes were blue, just like hers. He didn’t look like he was from one of the tribes—he was too light-skinned to be a native—but those eyes told her that he had some tundra in him.

"What do you want, fatty? Get out of here!"

She flinched. It wasn’t that she'd never been called fat before, and it also wasn’t that it didn’t hurt—

("Words can hurt too, Korra," her mother will say, covering her scraped knees with the electric blue band-aids Korra likes.

"My knees hurt," she'll say, before pointing to her chest. "But it hurts here too."

She'll get a kiss on her forehead and a sad smile. She won't understand what's behind her mother's eyes, not yet.

"I wish I had band-aids for that, sweetheart.")

—it was more that Korra couldn’t stand mean people, and the girl on the steps was still curled up, still crying and trembling. Her chest throbbed, and she wasn’t sure why it did that, but the boy began stalking towards her with a scowl, so she did the only thing she could think of.

She punched him in the face.

The moment her fist connected with his jaw, she thought about something Master Katara had once called " _kon-see-kwenses_." When she’d seen grown ups get angry, they’d use words that Korra knew she wasn’t supposed to say, wasn’t even supposed to _think._ When the boy landed on his behind with a jarring _thump,_ Korra knew she'd done something—as she'd heard the grown ups say—that a dumbass would do. It was those darn " _kon-see-kwenses_ " again, but Korra was six and couldn’t spell the word yet, let alone fully understand the context.

It didn’t feel good, whacking the boy, but she thought back to the radio serials she would listen to on Sundays, and she knew for a fact that the heroes _always_ knocked out the bad guys.

She just wasn’t sure if she was the hero.

Reflexively, Korra leaned down to help the boy she'd just pummeled, and thought better of it only after she'd extended a hand. Instead, she curled three digits into her palm, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "That's what you get," she said, trying for heroic but landing just short of completely mortified, "for being a jerk!"

He just looked up at her, bangs in his face, gaping like an elephant koi. Something throbbed in her chest again while she was glaring at him. It might have been remorse, but it also served to remind her that there was still a girl on the steps, sad and crying, and she should turn around to check on her. She did just that and—the girl was gone. Korra blinked a few times, frowning at the spot where there'd just been a fair maiden to save, and was left wondering if she'd just punched a boy in the face for no reason.

Now, this one incident shouldn't have started a chain reaction, it shouldn't have resulted in anything more than just a light scolding from one of her teachers, but like the dominoes she played with, she'd started something she couldn’t stop. She didn’t realize it in the moment, though, and maybe she never would, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t just done something meaningful.

Not _good_ , but meaningful.

She was thinking about dominoes when she felt two hands on her back, and she fell, face first, against the asphalt.

 

* * *

 

It stood to reason that her mother's first reaction would be worry.

Her little girl was hurt, her knees were bleeding, there were tear streaks on her face but she wasn’t sobbing. She wasn’t even crying anymore, which was good. Korra didn’t want to look any less than the part of the hero in front of the enemy.

The enemy, who was bawling and screaming as his mother held him down.

Either way, she'd come out with more scratches, and there was probably still dirt and debris in her wounds. She wondered, not listening to the grown ups yelling around her, if she'd have battle scars. All of the best warriors had battle scars, how cool would _that_ be?

"—even listening, Korra?"

She blinked, turning towards her father beside her, who jutted his chin toward her teacher to divert her gaze.

"Huh?"

"She's not listening! She broke my legs and she's not even listening!" the boy screeched, kicking his legs back and forth in a way that shouldn’t have been possible for broken legs.

The boy's mother held her son's shoulders down, gluing him to the chair so he couldn’t accidentally fly off in a fit. Korra wished she wouldn't, because watching him further embarrass himself would have been hilarious.

"Tahno, sweetie, your legs aren't broken."

"Yes they are!" He kicked them harder.

"Although I don't think Tahno's legs are broken," the teacher began, casting a wayward glance at the boy, "I do know that Korra instigated this… incident, and I've taken the time to determine her punishment. We have a counselor outside the school that we contract with, and I’ve already spoken to him about a meditation course—"

"Just a second. We haven't heard Korra's side of the story," her father interrupted, his booming voice stalling Korra's imminent sentencing. "Go ahead, Korra, tell us what happened."

She opened her mouth to speak, to defend herself when something stopped her. "Wait, daddy, what does _in-see-gated_ mean?"

Her mother piped in, " _I_ _nstigated_. That you started it, sweetie."

"I didn't!" she yelped immediately, and then remembered the scenario again. "Well… I _did_ , but it was just because he was making fun of a girl at recess! He made her cry… I had to stop him!"

"We talked about using your words though, didn't we, Korra?" her mother chided. Korra sighed. Yes, they did, but grown ups could never really understand the things she had to do for the greater good.

"Yes," she mumbled, casting her eyes down to her lap.

The doody-head jerkbutt—Tahno—scoffed loud enough for the people in the next classroom over to hear. "You _did_ start it! And y'know, it's not _my_ fault that you have no friends because you're fat and nobody likes you!"

If this new development wasn’t enough to get the grown ups on her side, she wasn’t sure what would be. And still, even with her parents on either side of her, her means of support, his words hurt.

" _Tahno!_ " his mother gasped, and the teacher wasn’t far behind.

Korra's mother wasn’t normally the violent one, but when Korra looked up, she almost went right to cowering. She only prayed that gaze would never be trained in on her.

"I think we're done here," her father said, standing. Her mother took Korra's hand and they stood up together, but not before her father turned to the teacher, leaning in close. "I would recommend _listening_ to your students in the future."

Korra angled her head over her shoulder as they exited the room, and got one last image to leave on—her teacher, white as a sheet; Tahno's mother, head in her hands; and Tahno, wailing like a dying cat.

 

* * *

 

Since she did help build it, Korra figured she should have been spending more time on the tire swing.

Somehow, though, it had become less of a source of enjoyment and more of a place she’d go to mope. Not—that she was _moping_ , of course. She was… contemplating her existence. A phrase she would coin when she figured out what "contemplating" meant.

She looked down, watching as the grass far below her feet swayed in the breeze. She swung her legs back and forth, wincing when the wounds on her knees shifted and stung. It wasn’t a smart idea, but it also wasn’t the first time she'd skinned a knee. Or two. It made her wonder if she could get herself hurt on purpose, just for the sake of wearing the bandages her parents fitted her with. All of the warriors and heroes she looked up to would get hurt, and _they_ all wore bandages. Not band- _aids_ , but her mother wouldn’t let her tie dirty rags around her open wounds.

There was a shift in the air, and she didn’t have to look up to know that her father was approaching.

She was still staring at the ground when two massive feet intruded upon her view, and then her father crouched down to eye level, peering up at her. "What's wrong, _kuicuar?"_

"Nothing," she murmured, not even managing to convince herself of the sentiment.

Korra didn’t meet her father's eyes as he watched her, didn’t trust herself enough not to cry. She was decidedly not looking at him when he started to dig something out of his pocket.

"Do you remember the first time I took you out on the water?"

She nodded. It hadn't been long before, but recalling it made her long for the South.

Her father continued. "I'd just planned to show you how to fish, but we went out too far, we got caught up between ice floes. I didn't know if I'd have been able to get us out in one piece, Korra. I was terrified," he said, placing a huge hand on her shoulder. She didn’t look up, just listening. "I knew I had to do anything to protect my little girl, I had to keep you calm and safe. But you know what? You weren't afraid. You looked up at me and told me that we'd… how'd you put it—’fight the ice monsters’." She couldn’t help but smile at the memory. "You knew better than I did that we'd be okay. And here we are."

The thought was nice, and the memory settled comfortably in her chest, but she'd still had a bad day, and she was determined to feel bad for a little while longer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father fiddling with something, and, interested, she ventured a glance. "My toy!" she exclaimed, realizing what her father was holding. "I thought I lost it…"

"Lost things always seem to find their way back," her father said with a smile. "Remember the story I told you about this guy?"

She was still sad, but the figurine had always been one of her favorites, especially since her father had carved it for her. "Kuruk," she said, recalling the tale. "He was a famous warrior and he wanted to help people."

Her father nodded. "He was one of the greatest heroes of our people, but he was also very lonely. He lost someone very close to him."

"Ummi."

"Yes, but he never let his loneliness get in the way of what he did for his people. Every time he went into battle, he fought for Ummi. He was strong and brave and kind, always," he continued. "And do you remember what happened that day after we got back home? What I said to you?"

"You gave me the Mark of the Brave. 'Cause you said we'd gone ice dodging."

"Even though your mother says you were a little too young…" he grumbled. "But yes, I did. Who did I say had also earned that mark?"

"Master Katara," Korra recalled, but then, catching sight of the figurine in her father's hands, “and Kuruk!"

He smiled, and Korra knew she'd gotten the right answer. "You're as brave as Master Katara _and_ Kuruk, and like them, you've always wanted to help people."

"Okay daddy, but people _liked_ Kuruk. Nobody likes me."

"Sweetheart," her father began, wiping his thumb across her cheek. She felt wetness there, and didn’t even realize that she'd started crying. "There will always be mean people. But there will also always be people like you, people who want to help others. You saw someone getting hurt, so you ran in to help without a second thought. That's what true warriors do."

She didn’t respond. His words were comforting, and even though she was six, she understood just how much her parents loved her. Still, she was _six,_ and her pride had been more than a little wounded.

"You know what true warriors _don't_ do?" he said, standing up. Korra looked up at him, and only had a moment to register the mischievous glint in his eye—a trait her mother often said she'd adopted, before he reached down and yanked her up, tickling her sides mercilessly before throwing her over his shoulder. "They don't mope!"

And she _wasn't,_ but she was giggling too hard to protest because both her parents knew just how ticklish she was and exploited this knowledge as often as possible. She tried wiggling out of his grasp, but her father was many times larger and stronger than her, and no matter how hard she tried, her efforts were futile.

"Daddy, put me _do-oowwwn!_ " she laughed, beating harmlessly on his shoulder.

"Senna!" he called once he'd walked back into the house. "I caught a little bear for supper. Feisty one, but she was no match for me."

Korra went right back to giggling, because there was no way he could have even _found_ a bear in the city, and the image of her father chasing a bear down a busy street was just too much. For now, though, she figured that she’d play the part of a dead bear.

"Oh, Tonraq, you really need to be more care—oh no! I think she's still alive!"

It was her cue, apparently, because her father pulled her off his shoulder, holding her around the middle so he could look at her, and she gave a growl she could only hope was intimidating. Her mother, to her credit, gasped exaggeratedly, but then, like the traitorous people they were, her parents turned on her, tickling her sides, her feet, her neck, and by the time she was put back on the floor, she was wheezing with laughter.

Her parents were laughing as well, and while she might have had a bad day, while she would still feel the sting of loneliness the next day, she would have this.

She helped her mother make dinner, helped her father clean the dishes after dessert, and when they tucked her into bed with smiles and kisses, Korra knew that no amount of teasing and bullying, no amount of bullies would ever erase her parents' love for her.

For that moment, it was more than enough.

 

* * *

 

It was rude, but no one was around. She was allowed to make fart noises every time she smacked the tetherball around its pole.

She figured that she looked kind of pathetic like that, which might have explained why all of the other kids were on the opposite side of the playground.

Also, she’d punched a kid in the face the day before. There was that.

All her efforts, all her protests in the morning had been in vain, because she was at school _again,_ stuck playing a one-girl game of tetherball.

("Mommy, _please!_ " she cried, trying to wrestle her jacket off. "Don't make me go, don't make me go, don't maaaa—"

"Sweetheart, I want you to be happy. I also want you to brush your teeth and keep your clothes on your body."

"But—"

"Please put your pants back on, Korra.")

Well, she was wearing pants. They were her long blue wool ones that covered up the band-aids on her knees. She'd gotten hurt, yeah, and knew that she could probably look cool wearing shorts to show off her battle wounds, but she kind of assumed that no one would care. This wasn’t the first time she'd played tetherball alone, and she was certain then that it wouldn’t be the last.

It took a few swings to get the ball up to momentum, but eventually she was hitting it so hard she couldn’t even hear her own movements let alone a pair of feet that approached from behind.

"—ello?"

Korra stopped hitting the ball for a closer listen, sure she'd heard something, which was a _stupid_ idea, because the thing swung around at high velocity and hit her square in the face.

" _Mmf!"_  she grunted, stumbling backwards. Her nose was on fire and she clutched at her face and there were tears streaming down her cheeks and it didn’t seem fair that this was the second day in a row that she'd managed to publicly humiliate herself.

With her eyes clenched shut, she couldn’t see anyone approach, but she felt a presence beside her; she could only pray that it wasn’t someone who'd come to laugh at her.

"I'm so sorry! Oh no… please don't cry, I just—"

She wasn’t looking, didn't want to see whoever was watching the pathetic display. "Go 'way!" She flailed around, whipping the hand that wasn’t holding her nose around in the air. "'M fine!"

"Please, I'm—I'm sorry, I wanted to say thank you and I…"

It took a long moment, but Korra stilled her jerky movements to register that not only was this mystery person _not_ here to laugh in her injured face, but was actually thanking her for something. What good had she done lately other than putting her shirt on the right way that morning? And she wasn’t even sure if she’d managed _that._

She blinked the tears out of her eyes, wiping at them with her fists. "What d'you mean ’thank you’?" she huffed. "What'd I do?"

The girl she was speaking to didn't respond immediately, and Korra was worried for a moment that she might have left, which would have been _just her luck_ , but then—"Well you, um…"

Finally, she laid eyes on the person who'd been talking to her for a couple of minutes, blinking the remnants of her pain away. She gasped. "You're that girl from yesterday!"

She nodded. "Nobody's ever done that for me, so um… thank you." The last words came out of her mouth in a rush, like she was worried that Korra would react badly.

There was a moment where they just looked at each other, Korra holding her nose, and the girl with her quivering lip and glassy eyes, and Korra figured that she should be acknowledging the thanks, but she had always been more apt to _show_ her gratitude.

"You wanna play tetherball with me?"

The girl blinked. She looked around as if Korra might have been talking to someone else, and Korra felt that familiar ache in her chest, the one her mother didn’t have band-aids for. It didn’t take long, though, for the girl to realize that she was being spoken to, and she gave Korra a shy smile and an eager nod when Korra held the tetherball out for her.

"Great!" Korra exclaimed, completely unable to keep her excitement in check. She bounced on her heels, handing the ball to the girl with a grin. "Do you know how to play?" This time, the girl shook her head, a little sad and a little unsure, but Korra couldn't have been happier. "Don't worry, I'll teach you! Oh, and I'm Korra, by the way."

"Asami."

 

* * *

 

For the record, Korra couldn’t ever remember having this much fun.

It felt as if she'd finally filled the vacancy leaving the South had created. Maybe she was being too hopeful, maybe with all of the other terrible things her classmates had said to her, she shouldn't have been so sure that this one day could mark a major milestone in her life, but… she'd just had _so much fun_.

And it'd only been recess. Also it _hadn't_ only been recess, because for once in her entire year of schooling at Republic City Elementary, she'd actually had someone to play with.

Afterwards, though, she sat at her desk, quietly daydreaming while the teacher droned on and on. Someone had already lobbed a spitball at her, and it was probably stuck in her hair at this point, but her spirits were too high for that to faze her. 

~

_It had taken a while for Asami to get the hang of tetherball, but once she had, she'd been a natural. They'd played for so long that Korra's knuckles were throbbing when recess ended. She didn't want to stop playing, she wanted to stay outside for another million-jillion hours and play tetherball with an actual living, breathing opponent._

_"Aww!" Korra groaned, letting her serve drop on its rope as the bell rang loudly across the school. "Already?"_

_Asami looked toward the schoolhouse with a frown. "It hasn't been an hour… has it?"_

_"Doesn't seem like it." Korra pouted, crossing her arms._

_"Well… I guess we have to go."_

_Korra frowned. This didn't seem fair. She'd had so much fun, she couldn't possibly wait until tomorrow. Unless—"Hey! You can come over to my house after school! I don't have a tetherball, but I have a swing set in my backyard."_

_Asami's face brightened immediately. "Can I walk home with you?"_

_Korra nodded vigorously, pumping her fists in the air. "I'll see you after school then," she called, already running toward the schoolhouse and waving over her shoulder, eager to get class over with. "Bye Asami!"_

_Asami had waved back, smiling as she walked to her own class. "Bye Korra!"_

_~_  

She knew she was dying. She was going to be the first person to _die_ of boredom.

All Korra could think about was the fact that there would be a playdate after school—and not with her father, not with her imaginary friends, but with a _real person_.

She shifted in her seat, checking the clock again. School would end when the big hand pointed to the right, and the small one pointed straight up. But at that moment? At that moment, those clock hands needed to hurry it up.

By the time class ended, Korra could safely assume that she'd been glued to the chair for several millennia. She flew out of the classroom so fast she tripped over her own feet, stumbling around the doorway and into the hall where she could hear the distinct sound of her classmates laughing at her from behind. She couldn’t have cared less though, only interested in making it to the front of the school where she could wait (impatiently) for Asami.

While it may not have been the millennia she'd spent in the classroom, the wait on the sidewalk leading out of the schoolhouse seemed just as long. Eventually, Asami appeared through the front door, and Korra almost dislocated her shoulder as she waved her arm around to get the other girl's attention. Asami saw her then, smiling as she made her way through the crowd.

"Hi Asami!" Korra exclaimed, finding herself bouncing on her heels for what had to have been the fifth time that day. "Ready to go?"

Asami nodded, still sporting her smile from before.

They made small talk on the way home, during which Korra found out a few key pieces of information: Asami's favorite color was red, her birthday was exactly six months before Korra's, and she wanted to pilot all kinds of machines when she was older.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, getting to know someone. When her family had first moved to Republic City, Korra's parents had encouraged her to make new friends, talk to new people. She'd had friends in the South, sure, but there was something about the city kids that felt so incongruent that she'd found it impossible to talk to anyone. Her parents had never pressed. They'd been supportive in every way they knew how, and even if she couldn't express her sentiments yet, she'd always had that strong foundation at home.

Asami was finishing up a story about a rainy day and a new dress when they arrived at the front door of Korra's house. As always, when she walked in, she was greeted by her mother.

"How was your day, sweet—oh! Who’s this?"

Her mother smiled over at Asami, and Korra felt a surge of pride. She'd finally able to say the words that had been stuck in her throat for the better half of a year.

"This is my new friend, Asami!"

The girl smiled up at Korra’s mother, shy but polite. "Hello."

"Hello Asami. It's very nice to meet you. Korra hasn't… well, that's not important. Are you staying with us for dinner, dear?"

"I'd… um, I'd have to ask." Asami surveyed the area. "Do you have a telephone?"

Korra didn’t see her parents use it that often, but her mother walked Asami to the kitchen where she handed her the phone and Asami dialed her father up. It was a short conversation, and Korra couldn’t pick up much from Asami's side, but when the girl handed her mother the phone back with a soft ’thank you’, Korra's stomach dropped into her feet.

"Can you stay?" she asked, and couldn’t bring herself to care about how desperate she must have sounded.

Asami looked taken aback, but she quickly covered her expression up with a smile. She nodded, looking from Korra to her mother. "Can I? My daddy said I could, but…"

"Of course, Asami. You're more than welcome here," Korra's mother said, but Korra ended up missing it because she was jumping up and down again, physically unable to contain her excitement.

"Come on, come on!" she yelled, grabbing Asami's hand and dragging her out of the kitchen. "I have to show you my swing set, and we can play with my figurines, and—and—I don't know, we can do everything!"

Asami giggled the whole way to the backyard, and for once, Korra was more than fine with being laughed at.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock on the front door, and it took Korra a moment to realize that it had been hours since the sun had set.

Her and Asami had set up in the living room after dinner, taking Korra's wooden blocks and figurines out to make a small-scale model of Republic City. Korra knew that it didn’t _actually_ look like Republic City, but they had the basics, and should not have been expected to make an accurate miniature of the city. They were _six_.

Asami had carefully constructed the city, placing the blocks on top of each other in ways Korra would never have thought of. All the while, Korra had taken it upon herself to name all of her figurines, creating backstories and superpowers for them all.

The figurines had fought valiantly, but in the end, there had to be a monster to destroy the city.

("Can I be a giant monster?"

"Are you going to knock down my buildings?"

"Wh—um. Yeah?"

Asami had narrowed her eyes up at Korra, who felt a little uneasy, but she _had_ asked for permission, so—

"Monster fight," Asami had said, and Korra didn't have half a second to react before Asami was in monster mode, the biggest, scariest, toughest threat the city had ever seen.

She'd lost. Monster Asami was _way_ more threatening.)

She'd lost the fight, and apparently also lost track of time, because they had ended up lying amongst the smoldering ruins of the city (scattered wood blocks Korra would have to pick up later, _ugh_ ) and just talking when Korra's father answered the door and Korra noticed the moon from a window.

"You must be Tonraq. I spoke with your wife over the phone." A man's voice came from the door, and Korra had to push herself upright to get a better view.

"Nice to meet you!" Korra's father clasped the other man's hand firmly. "I hope you found the place alright. The girls are… on the floor over there. I think they had a blast."

"Hi daddy!" Asami perked up, rolling onto her back so she could sit up. "We were monsters."

"We were _monsters_ ," Korra added. For emphasis.

" _Messy_ monsters. There are pieces of Republic City in the sink," came Korra's mother's voice from the hall. She turned to Asami's father, shaking his hand, albeit a little less aggressively than her husband. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Sato. I'm glad we can put a face to the name."

"Hiroshi, please. And the pleasure is mine, I assure you," he said with a smile, but Korra couldn’t help but find the expression a little strange. He turned to her and Asami, standing amongst the blocks. "Asami, why don't you help your friend clean up the… city?"

"Okay," Asami said, standing and helping Korra up so they could clean together. "Where did we leave Future Industries Tower?"

Korra thoroughly despised any kind of cleaning, but after a while of searching the house for toys, she realized that she'd hated cleaning on her _own_. Cleaning with Asami was fun, especially when the other girl suggested that they throw blocks into Korra's toy box instead of just picking them up.

They went from room to room, alternating positions; Korra held the box in the kitchen while Asami tossed, vice versa for the backyard, and another switch in the den.

By the time they’d finished, the adults were standing around the door again, and Mr. Sato looked down at his daughter, smiling. "Ready to go?"

Asami frowned, turning to Korra. "I guess."

"Don't worry Asami, you can come over tomorrow," Korra responded, even though she didn’t want the other girl to leave either, "and the next day. And the next day, and the next—"

Asami started to giggle, which made Korra laugh too. She hadn't realized how badly she'd missed laughing with friends.

The adults said their goodbyes and Asami waved as she went to her father. He was smiling at her, and when Korra looked up at him, towering over them both, she could see the love in his eyes for his daughter, and just how happy he was that she'd finally found a friend.

And yet, there was something missing there.

She was still a little unsettled by Mr. Sato's eyes when her parents tucked her in later that night, because she could see nothing but love, whole and constant, when her parents said goodnight. Slowly, the feeling faded. She wouldn’t know how to express it if she tried, not yet.

When she could feel sleep comfortably blur the edges of her mind, she wondered if Asami slept so peacefully.

 

* * *

 

The warm, comfortable glow of Korra’s home kept Asami company even after Mrs. Senna had closed the door behind her and her father. She was a little sad to be leaving but she knew she’d see Korra again soon. They were _friends_. She smiled at the thought as she followed her father out onto the dimly lit street where his Satomobile was waiting.

Her smile became an unrestrained grin when she could see that her father had brought the new Z-Series prototype to pick her up. He rounded the car to get into the driver’s seat as if nothing was different.

“Daddy?” she called, craning her neck to look at him through the Satomobile windows.

He stalled at the driver side door before bending at the waist and finding her on the other side of the car. “Yes, Asami?”

She bounced a little on the balls of her feet in excitement. “Can I sit up front?”

He tried to remain stoic, but a small smile crept up onto his face. “I thought you might want to. Just this once, okay?”

“Okay!” she readily agreed, wrenching open the heavy passenger side door with some difficulty. She’d let him believe that it would just be the one time, sure, but she knew that if he let her this time, he’d let her again.

The Z-Series was a sleeker, faster Satomobile and it sat so low to the ground that Asami hardly had to hop at all to situate herself onto the seat. She reached up to grab the seatbelt—she hated wearing the thing but she knew how important it was—and buckled herself in. She tucked the shoulder strap under her armpit so it sat across her chest instead of uncomfortably across her neck. Her feet _just_ skimmed the floor, which wouldn’t happen in her father’s usual Satomobile and she hoped it was because she was getting taller and not because of how short the Satomobile was.

Her father turned the key in the _ignition_ —she had learned what it was called, so she repeated it to herself in her head—and the Satomobile roared to life. He glanced at her and revved the _engine_ loudly and she squeaked a little in excitement before sitting up straighter to better see out of the _windshield_.

Her father threw the _clutch_ back into drive dramatically but then pressed the _accelerator_ slowly, inching the Satomobile out onto the neighborhood street. _Of course_ , she thought, pressing her mouth into an unamused frown. “ _Daaaad_ ,” she complained.

Her father laughed from deep in his chest and Asami realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him laugh like that. It made her feel weird. Not bad weird or good weird, just weird. “Sorry sweetheart, couldn’t resist,” he said with a chuckle. “You know I can’t drive like that except on the test track.”

She crossed her arms with a huff but she wasn’t really that mad. One day she’d learn to drive and then she’d be able to go as _fast as she wanted_.

“So, how was your day?” her father asked casually, pulling out onto the main road.

“Good,” she answered automatically.

There was a long stretch of silence and Asami tilted her head to count the streetlights they passed. She couldn’t exactly explain why but the farther they drove from Korra’s house the more tired she felt.

Her father cleared his throat. “Korra seems nice. Did you have fun?”

“Mmhm,” Asami hummed, turning to him. “They have a swing set.”

“Is… is that something you want? At home?” he asked seriously.

Asami shook her head. She knew that buying her things made her father happy, but she wished he wouldn’t do it all the time. “No, I can use theirs.” Her eyes widened when she realized what she’d said. Asami turned to him, suddenly worried. “I… I can go back, right? Korra said I could and Mrs. Senna said I was welcome.”

He looked at her with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Asami didn’t really like that smile. “Yes, of course. And maybe one of these days Korra would like to come over to visit you, hmm?”

Asami knew she was supposed to be happy to have Korra come over, but for some reason she wasn’t. She liked spending time at Korra’s house with its comfortable chairs and swing set and wooden blocks. She couldn’t put into words how her chest felt when they pulled up to the mansion and all the lights were off. Ms. Yangchen, her science teacher, would say that there was a _heart_ and _lungs_ and _bones_ in her chest, but when her father opened the front door to an empty, dark house, she couldn’t feel any of those things in her.

Asami kicked off her shoes and started running around, turning on every light she could. “Asami?” her father asked with a bemused expression. “What are you doing?”

She stopped, her hand halfway to turning on the light for the glass display case in the foyer. “It’s dark, Daddy,” she said by way of explaining.

He shrugged and she continued her mission until every light on the first floor was on. _There_ , she thought, _that’s better._

Asami returned to the kitchen where her father was sitting at the kitchen island riffling through the mail. She could smell his nightly coffee brewing. Asami liked the way it smelled but she _hated_ the taste. Once though, her father had taken a packet of hot chocolate and shaken it into a watery cup of coffee for her. She had liked it that way, but not the way he would drink it. Asami hoisted herself onto the stool next to her father just seconds before he said without looking at her, “Time for bed, Asami.”

She huffed. She had _just_ gotten up there. She slid awkwardly back off the stool as he tore open a small, white envelope with curly handwriting on the front.

Asami walked back out of the kitchen but realized that in her mission to turn on every light she had forgotten the second floor, and the top of the stairs was completely cast in shadow. She steeled herself. She was a _monster_ , she wasn’t afraid of _anything_.

Asami took a deep breath and held it, sprinting up the stairs as quickly as she could until she reached the lightswitch at the top, turning it on desperately. She let out the breath she was holding when she looked both ways down the hallway and found that no one was there.

After she finished dressing for bed—in the pajamas her grandmother gave her, the one with the tag that made her itchy at night—she walked down the hall. She almost made it all the way to her father’s bedroom before remembering that she wouldn’t find him there. She wouldn’t find anyone there. She turned around and walked to his study instead.

He was at his desk, writing something with one hand and holding his coffee mug in the other. She pushed the door open slightly. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” he said without looking up.

“Just… goodnight.”

He looked up then. “Goodnight, Asami.”

She nodded and just as she slipped back out of the doorway he called softly, “Oh, Asami?”

Asami peeked back in; he’d picked up the envelope that she had seen him opening in the kitchen. “I’ve received an invitation to a party. From the President.”

She didn’t particularly care. He was invited to parties all the time. Her father watched her expectantly for a moment before awkwardly continuing, “The invitation says I can bring a guest. Would you like to join me?”

No, she really wouldn’t. Asami had never liked parties; shaking hands with tall people and being stuffed into puffy dresses that would crinkle loudly when she moved. Then when she was done being paraded around and all the adults had forgotten about her, all she had were the other kids who didn’t want to be there. She didn’t like her dad’s friends’ kids. They were never very nice.

She considered saying no before remembering that it was her mother that would normally go to parties with him. She always looked really pretty in her dresses—not just poofy like Asami—and her father would dress in her mother’s favorite suit, the one with the stripes. Asami liked watching her mother get ready, sitting next to her at the vanity and putting on makeup too. After she had made a mess of the cosmetics and her face, her mother would gently clean her face off with a cloth and apply the lipstick for her. Then she’d say, “Pretty girls like us don’t need much. Just a little.” She’d say it every time, and it was Asami’s favorite part of every party.

She didn’t want her father to be lonely so she said yes even when all she wanted was to say no. He smiled in the way she didn’t like very much. She wished him goodnight again before hastily shutting the office door behind her and blinking several times really quickly.

That night, after waiting a very long time for sleep to find her, Asami wondered if Korra’s brain was ever so loud that she couldn’t sleep either.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Help!_ Mommy!”

Yes, Korra had walked through the front door more times than she could count on her fingers and her toes _combined_ , but still she tripped on the lip to the entranceway, the painful collision of her knees on the hardwood floor forgotten in her urgency.

“I’m in the kitchen, sweetheart,” her mother called. “I can also hear your shoes, Korra.”

_Ugh._ The cleanliness of the rugs could not hold a candle to her dilemma, but she didn’t want to upset her mother, so she toed off her shoes before she reached the kitchen, flinging them and her bag back towards the door with deadly precision. She couldn’t see where everything landed, but she was certain— _certain—_ that she’d been precise.

“Mommy,” she huffed, sliding into the kitchen and only losing her footing for a moment as her socks carried her about a foot away from her mother. “I have a problem.”

Her mother didn’t stop cutting vegetables. “Do you?” she said, not sounding as concerned as she _should have been sounding_. “We can’t keep buying you new backpacks, Korra.”

“No! A bigger problem.” She held up the paper she’d received before she’d left school and took in a massive breath. “There’s a science fair and I need to make a project and I don’t know what to do and I only have one week and Asami’s better at science but she had to go home so she can’t come over to help me today and I have to do it now so maybe if I go over to her house she can—”

Suddenly, her mother’s hand was resting on her head. “ _Breathe_.”

Korra obeyed, realizing only then that she had, in fact, not been breathing.

“You’ll have to wait to work on your project,” she said, returning to the vegetables. “You have your meditation course today.”

_Oh no._ “Mommy, I _have_ to work on my project!”

“You _have_ to go to your mediation course.”

_No no._ “ _Mommy_.”

Her mother turned to her, finally meeting her eyes. She raised her eyebrows. Korra knew that look. She knew not to question that look. She also knew that she had to get this project done.

“O- _kay_ ,” she grumbled. (It was not okay). “But I don’t know what to _do_ and now I can’t talk to Asami until the morning and we need to have an idea in class tomorrow.”

“Well,” her mother began, scooping the vegetables into a bowl with what Korra could only assume was a marinade, based on the smell. Marinade meant tentacle soup, and tentacle soup meant that Korra was already hungry. But she _had_ to go to this meditation course and she _had_ to learn how to control her anger. Stupid Tahno and his stupid face. “You could make rock candy. I did something like that for a science fair when I was in school.”

_What_.

“...candy?”

Her mother nodded. “You tie a string around a pencil and put the pencil over a glass filled with hot sugar water. You wait a few days, and by the end, you have rock candy. There’s sugar and food dye in the pantry, and I have yarn in the hall closet.” She looked down at Korra with a smile Korra thought looked a little apprehensive. She wasn’t sure why, but then her mother continued, “We could work on it together. You could surprise Asami with how cool your project is.”

Everything. _Everything_ her mother had said was perfect. It was easy, it was quick, she could impress Asami with her science-y prowess, and it was _candy_.

She clapped her hands together. “Asami’s not gonna know what to do! She’s gonna love it!” She surged forward then, hugging her mother around the waist to show her gratitude. “Thanks mommy!”

Her mother smiled down at her, nothing but love in her eyes, and the worry faded, replaced by excitement.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll make the best project out there.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as they announced the school science fair, Asami knew exactly what she wanted to do. The trouble was that Asami was six and no one yet trusted her with heavy machinery, which was just patently unfair.

She wanted to surprise her father, so she couldn’t ask him, leaving her with precious few other options. The only other adult in her life that she could ask was the maid—a slight, elderly woman with wispy hair named Meng.

Meng had always been very kind to Asami, and wasn’t nearly as suspicious as she should have been when Asami approached her, hands hidden behind her back and rolling on the balls of her feet. “Meng, may I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course dear, what do you need?”

Asami looked down shyly. “I have to make something for my science fair project and I need a little help and I wanted to surprise daddy so I was wondering if you could help me?” She looked up, innocence plastered all over her face.

The poor woman was defenseless against Asami’s charms. “Of course I’ll help you make it.”

“Great!” Asami said excitedly. “Do you know how to use a bandsaw?”

 

* * *

 

Meng did not know how to use a bandsaw.

In fact, Asami suspected that Meng had never precision-cut wood in her entire life. Which, considering how old Meng was, Asami found remarkable.

They were in Asami’s father’s workshop and Meng was eyeing the bandsaw—after being educated as to which machine _was_ the bandsaw—with blatant mistrust. Asami went to her father’s workbench and grabbed ahold of his stool. She dragged it with some difficulty across the room—scraping and screeching the whole way—and placed it with a wobble a few feet away from the bandsaw.

“Miss Sato, I’m not sure this is a good id—”

“Don’t worry!” Asami interrupted loudly. “It’s really easy. My dad and I use it all the time!” Asami snatched two pairs of safety goggles from the workbench and hustled back to Meng. “Here you go,” Asami said as she pressed one of the pairs of goggles into Meng’s hands.

Asami picked up her plank of wood from where it was leaning against the bandsaw, but when she offered it, Meng just stared back blankly.

Asami suppressed a sigh and calmly said, “You’re just going to push the wood”—Asami simulated the action with the wood in her hands—“against the blade there. Just follow along the lines I’ve drawn. Okay?”

Meng looked as if the request was anything but okay, but Asami didn’t give her a chance to back out. She scrambled up onto the stool and sat up straight before dramatically snapping the goggles over her face. Meng visibly swallowed and approached the machine.

“That’s the power button,” Asami told Meng from her perch, pointing. “Don’t forget your goggles,” Asami gently reminded her when Meng reached to turn on the machine. Meng looked down at the goggles as if noticing them for the first time.

She put them on, the strap making her hair stick out in funny directions and Asami would have giggled if she wasn’t so focused on their task. Meng turned on the machine and it hummed to life. She slowly pushed the plank of wood forward. As soon as the wood touched the blade, a loud, high pitched noise pierced the air and Meng flinched hard with a whimper.

Asami frowned because she could already see where the cut had gone wrong. That was okay though, it wasn’t too bad. Meng glanced nervously at Asami, who gave her an encouraging nod and smile. Meng pursed her lips and tried again.

Meng didn’t do a very good job, but Asami was happy anyway. The damage could be fixed with some sandpaper and time, both of which Asami had plenty of. Meng mopped her brow with her apron, getting some sawdust on her face. Meng had done her a huge favor, so Asami wrapped her arms around Meng’s waist and gave her a brief hug.

“Thank you, Meng!” she said, genuinely grateful.

Meng gave Asami a shaky smile before she all but pushed Asami out of the workshop and closed the door forcefully behind them.

The next morning before school Asami told her father about the science fair. “Hm?” he hummed while halfheartedly picking at a plate of eggs. “Oh, yes of course I’ll be there. I’ll mark it on the calendar.” Asami could hardly contain her grin.

When she got home Asami noticed that her father hadn’t marked the date on the refrigerator calendar yet. That was okay, she’d do it for him. She used three of her favorite colored pencils and drew lines around the words like an explosion.

The emphasis on the date wasn’t something Asami wanted to take lightly. She’d already carved out the rest of the day to work extra hard and finish her project.

She smiled, bounding back into the workshop. At the rate she was going, Asami _knew_ that she’d make her father proud.

 

* * *

 

Korra had already lost the will to live.

Never in her entire six years of existence had she been in a more quiet, sterile, _boring_ office than Mr. Tenzin’s. Korra thought _all_ offices were boring, but this one was especially so. The walls were a boring white, the desk was a boring rectangle, the chairs were a boring wood, and Mr. Tenzin was the most boring thing in the room, talking to Korra and her mother… _boringly._

She wanted to make fart noises. That would make things more exciting.

“...be beginning with ancient Air Nomad breathing exercises. Are you ready, Korra?”

She frowned up at Mr. Tenzin. She then frowned at her mother, who raised her eyebrows and angled her head at Mr. Tenzin.

Korra humphed. “Yes, Mr. Tenzin.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Tenzin said with a smile. He stood, continuing as he walked around the boring desk, “We’ll start by learning the lotus position on these mats behind you.”

Her mother stood too. “Listen to what Mr. Tenzin says, Korra. I’ll be back in an hour.”

It was betrayal for her mother to leave her like this, stranded on Boring Island with King Boring.

Korra groaned as she slid out of her chair. When she finally found the strength to meander over to the mats, Mr. Tenzin had already set himself on the ground, legs crossed underneath himself, and folded over his legs. His eyes were closed, and his breathing steady. Basically, he was doing nothing.

“This is the lotus position, Korra,” he explained, inhaling before he spoke again, “one of the most important positions in meditation. Here, we can center ourselves, we can focus our energy, and we can breathe.”

_Sitting on the floor, closing your eyes and breathing._ Korra did that all the time. Sure, not for long periods of time—certainly not for _an hour_ —but she knew how to _sit_.

With all of the reluctance she could manage, Korra plopped down in front of Mr. Tenzin and mirrored his pose as best she could.

“The ancient Air Nomads used these techniques to strengthen their minds and bodies,” Mr. Tenzin said, eyes closed, voice even and quiet. “We’ll be starting with simple deep breaths to focus our minds.”

Korra huffed again. She couldn’t make it through an hour of sitting and breathing. She’d crack, she knew it.

“Please close your eyes, Korra.”

She did, but not before she stuck her tongue out at Mr. Tenzin. He couldn’t see her—his eyes were closed—so Korra had to embrace the opportunity. Once her own eyes were closed, however… she was even more bored. She shifted, the lotus position proving uncomfortable. No matter what she did, or how she moved, nothing felt comfortable.

Why did _she_ have to do this? Why wasn’t Tahno sitting on his butt and breathing for an hour? If this was the kind of punishment heroes like her had to endure, maybe the greater good wasn’t worth it. Kuruk probably never had to take a meditation course.

She sighed, giving up completely and flopping sideways on the mat. The noise must have snapped Mr. Tenzin out of whatever super important kind of breathing he was doing, because his eyes opened, and he looked down at Korra curiously.

Korra stared back up at him, ready to challenge whatever lecture was sure to come.

He frowned, but it wasn’t with displeasure. Korra _knew_ what displeasure looked like—this was something a little more thoughtful.

Instead of a lecture, Mr. Tenzin stood and simply said, “Please move back against the wall.”

Confused, Korra obliged, leaning back against the far wall. Mr. Tenzin was still just standing, eyes closed and fists together. She watched him for a moment, sure that it was going to be more of the same, that instead she’d just be _watching_ the boredom rather than participating in it. She was about ready to say something when—

Mr. Tenzin did a backflip.

No metaphors, no imagination—the man took two strides forward and launched into a backflip, landing with more grace than Korra thought possible. The backflip transitioned easily into some sort of side-flip Korra didn’t know the name of, followed by... a handstand? Korra couldn’t believe what she was seeing, jaw hanging, eyes bulging out of her head. This boring old man, whom Korra was certain had a penchant for lectures and sitting and breathing was doing the kinds of acrobatics she’d only heard about on the radio or in her books.

When he finally stopped, taking a single, deep breath as he landed back where he had started, Korra didn’t even know where to begin.

“Th—what—Mr. Tenzin! What— _howdidyoudothat?”_

He smiled at her. “Breathing.”

“No way!” Korra exclaimed. “You did tha-that crazy thing with the—” she demonstrated the punching thing she’d seen him do, throwing in a kick for good measure. “That thing! Then! Then you were all— _bam!_ And you jumped like, like fifty feet! I can’t do all that with just _breathing._ ”

“You absolutely can, Korra. You can do anything I just demonstrated and so much more,” he said, kneeling down to her height, “but it all starts with the breath. If your breath is not connected with your movements, your body won’t respond the way you need it to. That’s why breathing is so important.”

Well that settled things.

“I’m gonna breathe the hardest, Mr. Tenzin!”

Mr. Tenzin chuckled. “Well, it’s not about strength, Korra, it’s—”

“I’m gonna be the best breather in the world!” Korra exclaimed, clenching and unclenching her fists. She had to move, so she did, running circles around the room like Mr. Tenzin had. “No one’s gonna stop me from breathing!”

“I would hope not…”

“Wait, but… how do I breathe the best?” She hurried back over to Mr. Tenzin, tugging on his robe, pleading with him. “You have to teach me Mr. Tenzin! I have to be the best breather so I can do backflips!”

Mr. Tenzin gave her a strange look, and for a moment, she was worried that he’d say no. The look melted into a smile soon after, though, and Korra felt her worry wash away.

“I’d love to teach you what I know, Korra.”

 

* * *

 

The cafeteria was in complete chaos. To be fair, it usually was, but the level of bedlam was unusual for a Saturday. Unfortunately, Asami’s tri-fold poster board was almost as tall as she was and it was making navigating around her frantic peers extra difficult. Her shoebox was protectively pinned under her arm while her hands held her giant poster out in front of her like a shield.

“Asami!”

Korra’s voice was immediately recognizable and Asami stopped, looking around hopefully and a little desperately.

Korra had climbed on top of a table and she waved, yelling something that was lost to Asami when a bigger kid shouldered past her, pushing a corner of the shoebox painfully against her ribs.

She moved towards Korra, but it was slow going until she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and another take hold of her poster board. Asami looked down at the dark fingers on her wrist, stained with multiple colors, and knew it was Korra.

She let Korra take her poster and adjusted to better hold her shoebox before following closely as Korra led her through the crowd. It seemed to Asami that the crowd parted easily before Korra, and getting around the room became way easier than when it was just Asami alone.

Korra carefully propped Asami’s poster up next to another one that was obviously Korra’s. The letters were slightly skewed and hastily glued, and there were a couple of sticky, bright stains at the edges, but Asami thought that it was a lot like Korra—messy and happy and fun.

It actually made Asami a little self-conscious about her plain poster, so monochrome and organized, with everything pasted neatly together. Asami briefly wondered if her poster was a lot like her, too.

“So can I see it?” Korra asked eagerly.

If she was being honest, Asami was a little nervous about Korra—or anyone, really—seeing her project, but if someone had to see it, Asami was glad that Korra would be the first. She opened the shoebox, relieved to see that her project was still in one piece after its harrowing journey through the cafeteria, and pulled out her Satomobile.

From the side it looked a little like the Z-Series prototype, all curved edges and shorter than the other Satomobiles her father produced. The wood was dyed black and on both sides Asami had painstakingly painted the Future Industries gear in red. She’d had to do it twice before she was satisfied, but looking at it then, she could see that it looked quite a bit like the real thing.

“Whoa,” Korra breathed, turning it over in her hand. The top and bottom of the Satomobile were open, revealing a few wooden gears and a short tube full of water that connected two syringes, one glued to the inside of the car, and the other detached.

“Here,” Asami said as she took the Satomobile from Korra and set it down on the table. “Push this.” She handed Korra the detached syringe and Korra pushed in the syringe plunger. The Satomobile rolled forward on its slightly misshapen wheels.

“Cool!” Korra crowed and Asami grinned widely in both happiness and relief. Korra pulled the syringe plunger back out and the car rolled a bit further. Excited by the results, she did it a few more times, pausing only to turn the car away from the edge of the table. After a while she picked the car back up and pointed to the Future Industries gear. “What does this mean?”

Asami hesitated before answering because she’d learned not to tell people that she’s _that_ Asami Sato if she could help it. Whenever she did, people would treat her differently—either they were way too nice or way too mean. But Asami liked Korra and she was sure that Korra wouldn’t treat her any differently, so she answered, “That’s the logo for my dad’s company.”

Korra’s head whipped up from the Satomobile to look at her. “Your dad has a company?”

Asami nodded slowly. “Yeah, he makes Satomobiles. Kinda like this one.” She gestured to her tiny Z-Series.

“He makes _toys_?” Korra’s eyes widened as she flicked a finger against a wheel, making it turn smoothly on its axis.

Asami giggled. “No! _Real_ Satomobiles.”

“Oh,” Korra said flatly, deflating a little, “...cool.”

And that was it. There were no more questions, no teasing, no weird looks, nothing. Korra didn’t care at all about what Asami’s father did and Asami could not be more thrilled. She threw her arms over Korra’s shoulders in an awkward embrace and Korra staggered back, surprised.

Korra was hardly able to return the hug before Asami had pulled away, her cheeks warm. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “So—uh—let me see your project!”  

Korra opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted when Ms. Yangchen clapped her hands loudly. The cafeteria quieted down and her voice carried across the room when she announced, “Okay everybody, we’re going to let your parents in and then I’m going to start coming around to each of you to ask questions about your projects, so get ready!”

Asami stood up a little straighter. When the doors opened and a flood of adults came pouring into the room Asami wasn’t surprised when she didn’t see her father immediately. She’d told him the correct time, of course, but he was often late— _“No one important arrives on time, Asami.”_ —so it hardly seemed worth it to expect him to be in the initial crowd.

Korra’s father, on the other hand, was instantly visible. He towered over the rest of the parents, scanning over their heads until his eyes found Korra. He gave a friendly smile and the way his eyes flicked between both her and Korra made Asami think that maybe he was smiling at her too.

Ms. Yangchen approached Korra first, so Mr. Tonraq and Mrs. Senna visited Asami instead. While Mrs. Senna kindly asked questions about how Asami’s Satomobile worked, Mr. Tonraq immediately seized the syringe and pushed the plunger, sending the car forward. The way his eyes lit up looked so much like Korra’s that Asami couldn’t help but giggle.

“It looks just like your father’s car!” Mr. Tonraq observed. “Though, I’ll bet the ones he designs don’t use water, huh?” Mr. Tonraq winked at Asami, handing the syringe to Mrs. Senna, who smiled patiently at her husband, obligingly pushing the plunger too.

Asami was reeling. Not only did Mr. Tonraq know that her father owned Future Industries, he seemed to care just as little as Korra did. Mrs. Senna didn’t even seem to _notice_.

Where _was_ her father, anyway? Asami had told him that the science fair was at the school but had she told him that it was in the cafeteria? Maybe he was wandering around the school looking for her.

Ms. Yangchen interrupted Asami’s thoughts. “Asami? Can you tell me about your project?”

Korra’s parents detached themselves, moving on to Korra’s table. Asami smiled politely, just like she had always been taught to do, and launched into her explanation. She demonstrated the way the water pushed the syringe plunger inside of the car, turning the gears and the wheels. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mr. Tonraq playfully steal one of Korra’s candy sticks and pop it into his mouth while Korra squawked in protest.

Ms. Yangchen seemed impressed with Asami’s Satomobile, and spent a few moments inspecting the car carefully while Asami’s eyes roamed the room. She still couldn’t see her father and wondered what was taking him so long. She’d told him about the science fair, he should have already arrived.

Ms. Yangchen jotted down some notes on her clipboard, and normally Asami would have been nervous, but she was hardly even paying attention as Ms. Yangchen thanked her and told her that she’d done a good job. She nodded absentmindedly while keeping an eye on the door of the cafeteria.

She’d told him. He’d come.

Some of the other kids started taking notice of the fact that Korra had made candy. A few of the kids wandered up to Asami’s booth too, rock candy between their teeth and Asami cringed when their sticky fingers touched her Satomobile experimentally.  Most of the kids hardly noticed her though and she didn’t pay them any mind either. There was a heavy feeling in the back of her throat that was making it hard for Asami to concentrate on anything else.

She’d _told_ him.

She _had_.

The crowds had started to die down, and as parents began wandering out of the cafeteria Ms. Yangchen returned, complimenting both Korra and Asami on their projects before telling them that the science fair was ending and that they could start to pack up their things. The heavy feeling in Asami’s throat was spilling and spreading across her chest and stomach, threatening to choke her.

Korra was putting away her things, folding up her poster and snapping the lid of her candy container closed. “Asami? Don’t you want to pack up?”

Asami didn’t answer, she just shook her head twice.

The prickling behind her eyes was familiar and unwelcome. She was hyper aware of the rapidly emptying room and how Korra and she were the only ones still at their tables.

Asami snuck a glance at Korra, who looked a little confused and worried. Asami wanted to keep waiting, but she knew that if she did, she’d have to explain. She’d have to explain that she’d told him and he hadn’t come.

She didn’t want to explain.

Korra touched Asami’s arm and asked, “Do… do you want help?”

Asami took a deep breath and turned to Korra with a smile. “Thanks. Can you take my poster?”

Korra smiled back, a bit hesitantly at first, but eventually her forehead smoothed out and she agreed. Korra folded up Asami’s poster board and placed it on the ground next to hers.

Asami replaced her Satomobile into its shoebox and followed Korra out of the cafeteria where they were the last ones remaining, and into the hall, where Korra’s parents were waiting.

“Ready to go, _kuicuar?”_ Mr. Tonraq asked. Korra nodded happily.

Mrs. Senna laid a hand on Mr. Tonraq’s arm and when he turned to her, she glanced at Asami. Asami looked away, fighting a frown. She knew that look. She’d spent an entire winter’s afternoon drowning in that look. It made her feel small, it made her feel scrutinized, and it made her feel _pitied_.

She hadn’t even known what pitied _meant_ until that afternoon, but she’d become intimately familiar with the concept since then.

“Asami, would you like to come over?” Mrs. Senna asked.

As much as she didn’t like that pitying look, when Asami looked over at Korra, whose smile was wide and expectant, the decision was a no-brainer. Asami didn’t want to go home, she wanted to stay with her friend.

“Yes, please.”

Mrs. Senna smiled kindly and Mr. Tonraq collected both posters from Korra, fitting them both easily under an arm before taking Mrs. Senna’s hand and starting to walk down the hall.

Asami made to follow but Korra stopped her with a tug on her arm. Asami turned to find Korra placing her container on the ground and prying it open. She reached inside, pulling out a single rock candy stick. “I saved you one,” she said simply.

Asami couldn’t help but smile, even if her chest was still feeling a bit tight. “Thank you,” she said quietly as she accepted the candy. Just before she could stick it into her mouth, though, she stopped and held it back out to Korra. “Share it?”

Korra smiled happily and easily before leaning forward and taking a generous bite of the candy. She rolled it around in her mouth, crunching on it loudly.

“Ugh!” Asami flinched at the sound. “I can’t believe you just _chew_ it like that.”

Korra rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you just _lick_ it! That takes _forever!”_

“Yeah! So it’s not gone in two seconds and I get to eat it for longer!” Asami defended.

“Whatever!” Korra looked past Asami at her parents. “Dad!”

Korra and Asami all but ran to catch up to Korra’s parents, who were already walking through the front doors of the school. As soon as they stepped outside, Korra was shouting, “ _Daaaad!_ Asami says licking the candy is better than chewing it! Tell her she’s cr- _aaazy!”_

Asami slowed then, letting Korra get ahead of her a little. She heard Mr. Tonraq’s booming laugh and he said something in response, but she didn't quite register the words because she’d passed the trash can on the sidewalk just outside of the school.

After the briefest moment of hesitation, Asami tipped her shoebox into the trash can before hurrying away to join her friend.

 

* * *

 

“So what’s this one?” Korra asked, pinching one of the tiles between her fingers and inspecting it with narrowed eyes.

“That’s the white lotus. I haven’t gotten to that one yet,” Asami said patiently, gently taking it from Korra and setting it back down on the board.

Korra’s head was slumped against her fists, her elbows resting on her knees. She was trying to pay attention, she _really was_ , but there were so many different tiles and symbols and they all meant different things and how was Korra supposed to remember them all? She had no idea Pai Sho would be so _complicated_.

Korra had been happy to try though, as soon as she’d seen the way Asami’s eyes light up at the sight of the worn, wooden Pai Sho board gathering dust in the corner of the living room.

Asami was easy to listen to, even if Korra didn’t exactly understand. The way Asami felt about each piece was written all over her face whenever she touched one. Korra couldn’t tell what the tile with the boat on it did, but she _did_ know that Asami didn’t like it all that much by the way she grimaced when she explained its purpose.

“It moves weird!” Asami exclaimed when Korra asked.

Korra barked a laugh. “But it looks cool!”

Asami huffed a little and pointed at another tile, this one decidedly less cool looking. “The jasmine tile is way better,” Asami said with a smirk, like she was thinking of a joke that Korra wasn’t privy to. “Anyway, so the chrysanthemum tile—”

“The _what_ tile? Are you making these up?” Korra gave Asami a skeptical look.

Asami laughed, and it startled Korra; she was pretty sure that it was the first time Asami had laughed all day. “No! It’s a flower. It’s got all of these thin petals… it’s really pretty.”

Korra crossed her arms with an unimpressed look. Asami only laughed harder and Korra could hardly keep the smile off her face when she said, “Okay Asami, tell me about this ‘crisanthem’ tile.”

Asami full on _snorted_ , which—in Korra’s humble opinion—was the best thing _ever_. Korra let her smile curl the edges of her mouth, coaxed by Asami’s reaction. Asami took a deep breath and slowly enunciated, “Chrys-an-the-mum!”

Korra continued the game, delighted. “Chry-angst-mum.”

“Chrys-chrysanthemum!” Asami squeaked through her laughter.

Korra wanted to keep going, but she couldn’t hold it together anymore. “Kiss—” Korra doubled over as she howled with laughter, clutching her stomach and knocking some of the Pai Sho pieces off the board.

“My goodness!” Korra’s mother walked into the living room, taking in the sight of two young girls apparently in the middle of a hysterical fit. “What’s gotten into the two of you?”

“N-nothing,” Korra panted, still holding her aching stomach. Asami just clapped one hand over her mouth and shook her head.

Korra’s mother set her hands on her hips with an amused look. “Nothing,” she mimicked. “Right. I get it. Well girls, if you get a moment, would you rather have arctic hen or pickled fish for dinner?”

Korra scrunched up her nose in disgust. Pickled fish was her uncle’s favorite, but Korra thought it smelled like old socks and tasted like it too. “Arctic hen, right Asami?”

Asami, still suppressing the last of her giggles, just shrugged.

“Arctic hen!” Korra declared with a firm nod to her mother.

“How did I guess? Alright, it’ll be ready in a little while.” Korra’s mother retreated into the kitchen and Korra heard the radio turn on. Music drifted into the living room. Korra always complained about her mother’s music choice, but she actually liked it. Her mother’s music accompanying the smell of food cooking felt comfortable and familiar, like home. It was one of the few things that hadn’t changed when they left the Southern Water Tribe.

Korra turned back to the board. “Okay, so this is jasmine, right?” she asked as she picked up one of the tiles. Behind her, the radio switched to a different song. It wasn’t slow, but it was gentle, like listening to rain on a window. Korra decided that she liked it. “So can I move it… here?” Korra placed the piece down with some force, shaking the board a little. She hoped she was remembering Asami’s instructions correctly. When Asami didn’t answer her though, Korra glanced up.

Asami was frozen, eyes wide and unfocused, staring at the board. “Asami?” Korra prompted.

Asami didn’t look at her; instead, her face seemed to crumple. Her eyebrows pinched together and her mouth pressed into a frown and her eyes became watery and shiny just before she burst into a tears with a weak sob.

Korra paled. She hadn’t meant—oh _no_. Korra didn’t know exactly what she had done wrong but she knew that she had to say ‘sorry’, so she did. “I’m so sorry!” She snatched up the tile. “I don’t have to move it there! Where—where should I move it?”

Asami said nothing, choosing instead to pull her knees up to her chin and lean her forehead against them, letting her hair fall down around her and shielding herself from Korra’s gaze. It reminded Korra of the first time they’d met.

Korra pushed the board out of the way, sending pieces scattering all over the floor. She crawled to Asami but hesitated just short of touching her. “Asami? Are you okay?”

Asami answered after what seemed to Korra to be an eternity of watching Asami’s shoulders shake and listening to her quiet hiccups. “That song…”

Korra frowned and whirled around to look in the direction of the kitchen. “What… the radio?” Asami’s head shifted against her knees in what seemed to be a nod. “I’ll—I’ll go turn it off!”

“No!” Asami uncurled herself just enough to grab hold of one of Korra’s hands. Korra was so startled by Asami’s desperation that she had to force herself not to twist away out of Asami’s grasp. “Please don’t,” Asami whispered.

Korra didn’t know what to do. Asami was crying, apparently because of the song, but she still wanted to listen to it? Korra knelt next to Asami without breaking the hold on her hand and simply sat next to her, listening to the distant radio. It was so faint and difficult to hear, Korra was surprised Asami recognized it at all.

She tried to decipher what it was about the song that made Asami so sad, but there was nothing she could hear that explained Asami’s reaction. It was a pretty song but just a song, at least to Korra.

When it finally faded away and gave way to a different, more upbeat song, Korra finally gathered up her courage enough to look at Asami. She was still crying, though less than before. She sniffed wetly and said, “I just…” Korra winced at Asami’s broken voice. “I miss my mommy.”

Oh. Korra could relate. She had spent the first week at Republic City Elementary holding back tears because she missed her mother so much. She had felt so out of place and lonely that only running into her mother’s arms at the end of each day would comfort her.

“Where is she?” Korra asked. “You can use our phone to call her, if you want.”

Asami shut her eyes and more tears were forced down her cheeks. “No, she’s… she’s gone.”

Korra frowned. “Like on a trip? My dad goes on trips sometimes too. When is she coming back?”

Asami’s fists clenched and she bowed her head. “Sh-She’s not!” Asami cried just before she jumped up and sprinted past Korra. Korra was so shocked she didn’t move until she heard the bathroom door slam shut.

“Girls?” Korra’s mother poked her head out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Korra said, panic all over her face. “I don’t know what happened! The song on the radio made Asami sad.”

“I believe you, sweetheart,” her mother said with a frown, “but maybe you should go check on her and see if she’s okay?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, but her hesitance meant that Korra took at least an extra minute to get there. She raised her fist to knock, but then decided against it when she heard muffled sobbing from inside the bathroom. Instead she sat on the floor and leaned back against the doorframe, her shoulder grazing the door. “Asami?”

The crying seemed to quiet, though Korra could still hear Asami sniffling. “What’s wrong? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” Korra mumbled miserably. Korra felt so desperate and helpless; she just wanted to do something— _anything_ —to make Asami feel better.

Korra felt the door tremble a little, as if something had settled against it. Korra’s fingers traced the wood of the door, feeling its knots and ridges. “You can tell me,” Korra said quietly. “I won’t—I won’t tell anyone.”

There was nothing from the other side of the door for a very long time. Korra pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear. Somewhere behind her, Korra thought she heard the front door open.

The bathroom door vibrated again very briefly when Asami finally spoke. “My mommy is gone—dead, I mean. She died.”

Korra had heard of people dying, but as far as she knew it only happened to old people—really, _really_ old people, not to normal people. Maybe Asami’s mother was really, _really_ old?

“Some people came to the house,” Asami continued. “Some not very nice people. They hurt her and she died.”

Korra’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Asami said, more quietly.

Korra didn’t understand, not really. She didn’t know why someone would hurt Asami’s mother or why Asami’s mother couldn’t just use that clear stuff in the brown bottles that stung and band aids to get better. She just wanted Asami, her _friend_ , to feel better.

“Can I come in?”

Korra was afraid that Asami wouldn’t open the door, but finally she felt the door shiver and the doorknob clicked loudly. Korra reached for the knob from the floor, and when the door cracked open, she crawled on all fours into the bathroom where she found Asami leaning against the cabinet under the sink. Korra shut the door behind her and locked it before sitting on her heels in front of Asami.

Asami reached out and balled her fists into Korra’s shirt, yanking her closer until Korra wrapped her arms around Asami. Asami sobbed once, loudly, into Korra’s shoulder. Korra could feel Asami’s tears making her shirt wet, but she didn’t care.

“I miss her,” Asami whispered, her words muffled by Korra’s shirt. “It isn’t… it isn’t _fair_. Why her? Everyone else’s mommies are alive but mine isn’t and I don’t know _why_.”

Korra’s chest hurt. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to miss her mother like that, like when Korra was at school and lonely, only _all the time_.

“Asami?” came a deep voice through the door just as the doorknob rattled. “It’s me—it’s Daddy. Please let me in.”

Asami shook her head while burrowing further into Korra’s neck. “No! Go away!” Her voice was hot and loud in Korra’s ear.

Korra pulled away a little, just enough to see Asami’s eyes. “You don’t want your daddy?”

Asami shook her head again. “Just you.”

That made Korra feel… not happy, but something. Something kind of nice. She tightened her hold on Asami, as if holding her close would calm Asami’s shuddering breaths.

“Asami, please,” her father said quietly. He sounded hurt too, kind of like Asami but also different.

Korra knew that sometimes she needed her daddy, but maybe sometimes her daddy needed her too. “Asami,” Korra said into Asami’s hair. “I think your daddy needs you.”

After a long moment Korra felt Asami’s grip loosen. It was just enough for Korra to reach an arm out and turn the bathroom doorknob with the tips of her fingers.

Asami’s father was there in an instant, kneeling on the floor next to them. There wasn’t much room in the bathroom, and Asami’s father had to sit halfway out the door in order to fit. Asami pulled Korra tighter against her again, hiding her face away from her father.

“Asami, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

He looked _so_ sad. Sadder than any adult Korra had ever seen. He didn’t look like the man Korra had met before; he looked both younger and older at the same time and it confused Korra.

Korra pulled away again gently and Asami let her, though she still tightly held onto Korra’s hand in a silent plea for Korra to stay.

Asami’s father glanced down at their joined hands and gave Korra a soft smile, but when he looked back at Asami it was as if Korra wasn’t even there. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the science fair. I… I know you told me and I know it was on the calendar but I forgot. Your… your mother was always the one…” He cleared his throat and blinked a few times and Korra was afraid to look at him, so she focused on Asami instead, who was clearly listening intently, even if she didn’t meet his eye. “Your mother was always the one that reminded me of the important things like that and I… I’m not as good without her, Asami. She made me better and I don’t know how—I don’t know how to be better with her gone and I hurt you. I didn’t mean to but I did.”

Korra had never heard _anyone_ talk like that before. If she had known how to describe it she would have called it honest and raw, but she _didn’t_ know how to describe it. She was at a complete loss.

Asami’s grip relaxed around Korra’s hand and as she turned towards her father, even before she had fully reached out to him, he had scooped her up into his arms. She pressed her face into his neck, much like she had done with Korra, and shook with the force of her cries.

Korra wasn’t sure if Asami wanted her to leave or stay, so she stood there awkwardly for a moment until Asami’s father gave her a grateful, soggy smile and a nod. That made Korra feel a little better. As she left, Korra heard Asami’s father say, “I’m so lucky to have you, Asami, because you’re a piece of herself she left behind and _you’ll_ make me better, won’t you?”

It was a long time before Asami and her father left the bathroom. Korra and her parents were silently waiting in the living room when he came out, carrying a dozing Asami in his arms. “I’m very sorry about this,” he said quietly.

Korra’s mother shook her head and said something, but Korra didn’t catch it; she was too focused on Asami’s face. She looked peaceful, but it was betrayed by her flushed and tear stained cheeks.

“Korra,” Asami’s father addressed her as he kneeled. “Thank you. For being such a good friend to Asami. I’m glad she has you.”

Korra swelled with pride. She wasn’t sure how, but she had _helped_ , which is what _heroes_ did.

Korra nodded shyly and Asami’s father stood and went to the door. Korra’s father held the door open for him and stuck out his hand; Asami’s father took it with some difficulty. “See you again soon, Hiroshi.”

Korra couldn’t see Asami’s father’s face, but he sounded happy when he responded, “Until next time, Tonraq, Senna.”

Asami sleepily squirmed in his arms. “Daddy?”

Asami’s father stroked her back reassuringly. “You can sleep, Asami. We’re just going home.”

Asami leaned away from her father’s chest and looked around in confusion as he carried her through the doorway. “Wait!” she protested and wiggled frantically in his arms. He let her down and she ran past him, back into the house. Asami threw herself at Korra, her arms wrapping around Korra’s neck. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t really need to. Korra returned the hug with just as much force before Asami let go and ran back to her father.

Korra didn’t move for a long time even after the door had closed. She thought about how sometimes people go and you don’t know why but it doesn’t make you love them any less and in fact it makes you miss them so much worse and why does that happen? Why do people go anywhere at all?

Korra’s mother had returned to the kitchen and was chopping vegetables when Korra wandered in after her, half in a daze. She immediately wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, even though her arms weren’t long enough for how much Korra wanted to hold on to her.

“Korra?” her mother asked, bemused. Korra didn’t answer, she simply pressed her nose further against her mother’s hip and tried not to cry. “What is it?” her mother tried again.

It wasn’t enough, Korra decided, so she pulled away while tugging on her mother’s dress. Her mother got the message and let Korra lead her to the kitchen table, where Korra silently instructed her to sit in one of the chairs. She did so, and Korra immediately crawled into her lap.

“Korra, what is it?” her mother repeated softly.

It took a long time before Korra answered, “I don’t want you to go.”

She felt her mother sigh more than she heard it as her mother’s strong arms wrapped around her more tightly. One hand scratched Korra’s back, exactly the way she liked.

“I won’t go if you don’t,” her mother finally whispered.

“But Asami didn’t go anywhere and her mommy _did_.” She sniffled, pressing her face into her mother’s shoulder. “Where did she go?”

“Well,” her mother began with a gentleness Korra had only heard before when she had been really, _really_ sad, “some people say that when a person dies, they go to a better place.”

That sounded nice, but it didn’t answer the question: “Where?”

“Nobody really knows, sweetheart.”

Korra frowned into her mother’s blouse. Why didn’t anyone know? Couldn’t someone have used the telephone to call from the better place to tell others where it was? That would have certainly made things easier.

“Our ancestors believed that those who pass away move on to live with the spirits.” Her father’s voice startled her from her mother’s shoulder, and when she looked up, he was sitting down in one of the dining chairs. “They said that if a person was good in life, they would find peace after their work with the living was done.”

“But Asami’s mom’s work _wasn’t_ done! Asami misses her, so she should have stayed.”

“That’s not something we have control of, _kuicuar_ ,” her father said, his voice comforting but his words unnerving. “That’s one of the hardest things we have to accept.”

It wasn’t fair, but however much Korra wanted to fight the issue, she had a nagging feeling it would have been futile. If she could fight the problem like she had with others, she could find Asami’s mom and bring her back, but she figured that if that were possible Asami would have already found a way. Her friend was a genius, after all.

Her mother rubbed soothing circles on Korra’s back. “When the people we love die, they don’t really leave us,” she said, “Asami might not be able to see or touch her mommy anymore, but they will always love each other.”

“How?” That didn’t make sense. Korra could reach out and touch everyone she loved. She’d never entertained the idea that she might not be able to.

“You don’t have to be near someone to love them. Remember when daddy went on that business trip to the Earth Kingdom?” Korra nodded. She remembered missing him more than she could express, her patience wearing thin about two hours into his trip. She had cried a lot while he was gone. “Did you stop loving him then?”

“No,” she admitted.

She looked at her father then, real and close. If anything, she might have had to love him _harder_ while he’d been gone. That had helped her feel closer to him. If that was true, then how hard did Asami have to love her mommy, since she’d never be able to come back like Korra’s father had?

It still wasn’t fair, and Korra didn’t like the thought, but the concept of death seemed a little less abstract. It brought back memories of the goldfish she’d had the year before. She had named him Fish, and she had loved him. She remembered being able to reach out and touch him (even though her mother told her not to), but one day she couldn’t anymore. Her father had told her that Fish had gone someplace else, and Korra hadn’t questioned it. She’d been sad when he was gone, but she could draw upon the love she’d felt for the little fish, even a year later.

“Did _Fish_ die?” she asked, the memories fueling the question.

Her father looked a little taken aback by the inquiry, but he nodded after a moment. “He did, sweetie. I didn’t tell you then because… well, I suppose I wanted to protect you.” He looked sad in a way Korra had never seen before—like he was sad and mad at himself at the same time. Korra didn’t like it, didn’t want her father to feel bad about her goldfish like she had. “Maybe I should have. It might have made this easier.”

“It wasn’t the right time, Tonraq,” her mother soothed, and Korra looked up to see her mother smiling at her father, sadness in her eyes. She angled her gaze back at Korra, and it relaxed her. She snuggled back into her mother’s embrace, strong arms holding her tight. “Do you want to know anything else, Korra? You can ask your daddy or I about this whenever you need to.”

Korra shook her head. She looked between her parents. A warm feeling spread in her chest. She was still sad, but with their love surrounding her, the sadness seemed... not welcome, but _okay_.

Her father slapped his thighs lightly, the way he would when he had an idea. “In our tribe, we honor those that have moved on in a very special way,” he started with difficulty. Korra watched as he wrung his hands together. “Fathers pass the tradition down to their daughters, and mothers to their sons when they turn sixteen.” He looked up at Korra, and she was surprised to see determination, rather than sadness in his eyes. She liked that a lot better. “I think you should learn it.”

“Tonraq…” her mother began, “we don’t have to rush this.”

“I think it’s time, Senna. We went ice dodging long before fourteen.” He smirked at Korra. “Our little bear can handle anything.”

“And I was _thrilled_ about that, wasn’t I?” she grumbled. With a long-suffering sigh, she directed her attention back to Korra. “Sweetie, would you like to learn? It’s a big responsibility.”

Korra had heard grown ups talk about responsibility before. She’d never shied away from it—she’d taken responsibility for Fish when they’d brought him home from the pet store, she took responsibility for chores (when prompted) and she always enjoyed it when her parents charged her with something important. She knew how important her culture was—her parents had made sure of that—and yes, she might have only been six, but the idea of this new responsibility made her feel much older. She liked it.

She nodded, but not before thinking of her response. “But… can I show Asami?”

“I was thinking you’d perform it for her—for her mother,” her father explained. “You’ll have to ask Asami first and make sure that she’s okay with it, but I’ll teach you all the same.”

Korra nodded again. She liked the idea, and the prospect of being able to help her friend.

“I could help her feel better,” she said, not expecting the yawn that crept up after her. Korra hadn’t realized how tired all of this had made her. She’d never had a conversation like this, one that had drained her so thoroughly, and it was a little scary. Still, she felt _responsible_ , and a little older and maybe even a little wiser.

It wasn’t long before she felt herself dozing off against her mother, and she only realized that she’d fallen asleep against her shoulder when her parents took turns kissing her forehead as they tucked her in.

“We love you so much, sweetie,” her mother said, a soft smile gracing her lips, “we’re always here for you.”

Before sleep took her, she thought of Asami. She’d always be there for her, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **bazaar** : We call this chapter "old baby lady's big night of crying" and it took a lot for me not to title it that.
> 
> Thank you for the wonderful comments and kudos! Two amazing artists (one of them being our badass beta, osmrice) drew things for PIP, and you can find them on tumblr [here](http://marysueisdead.tumblr.com/post/163850413531/be-careful-korra-drawing-for-bazaarwords-for) and [here](http://lushdudu.tumblr.com/post/163449914797/first-sketch-in-a-while-this-is-a-sketch-of-6-yr)! Check them out!
> 
> As always, you can find the three of us on tumblr too: [bazaar](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) [golari](https://golarisa.tumblr.com/) [osmrice](http://osmriceu.tumblr.com/) and don't hesitate to reach out! We don't bite. 
> 
> ... _I_ don't bite, I can't speak for my associates.
> 
> **golari** : I love bazaar's work in this chapter. I'll never forget how much we laughed while writing the Tenzin scene. 
> 
> Big ups to osmrice, who never fails to save my butt.
> 
> Also, hi! I love you guys, thank you so much for all the support so far.


	3. Chapter 3

Asami was much lighter than Korra had anticipated.

Not that her friend looked _heavy_ , but the ease with which Korra could push her on the swingset was... surprising, to say the least. Or maybe it wasn’t surprising at all, because Korra was a hero and heroes were strong. Duh.

However, even muscly heroes like Korra needed hero friends, and she finally had one. It was a welcome departure from her first few days in the city.

(“Hand me the wrench, Korra?”

“No, daddy, I’m doing the wrenching!”

Her father had laughed before stepping out of her way, a hearty, booming sound that rang pleasantly in Korra’s ears as she tightened the bolts nearest to the ground.

“I’ll tell all my friends that I did the wrenching and they’ll think I’m the best wrencher in the world!” she stated, smiling proudly at her work until a cold realization settled over her. She set the wrench on the ground with a frown. “I just don’t have any.”

“ _Yet_.” She had looked up at her father, watching him crouch down to her height through watery eyes. He elaborated, “You don’t have any _yet_ . Just you wait _kuicuar_ —soon you’ll have more friends than you can handle,” he said with a wink. “And they’ll all be impressed with your wrenching.”) 

“Higher?” Korra asked, watching as Asami ascended again, and steadying herself for the impact so she could push her with all her might. Maybe, just _maybe_ she’d be able to send Asami around the bar.

It looked like she was holding on tight enough, so Korra shoved as hard as she could, forgoing a response in favor of, well, a super awesome spin that could break records and earn her and Asami a place in history.

She could already see the papers:  _“Hero Warrior and Ultra Genius—First in Space With Backyard Swingset and Super Strength!”_

...It would be a working title, Korra decided, lost in thought.

"Can you—" _Would Republic City Daily run the story?_ "Korra—" _Yeah, they would_. " _Korra_ —" _It would be_ legendary.

"Are you trying to send Asami over the roof, dear?" 

"Hey mommy!" Korra called, still shoving Asami as hard as possible, and wondering idly if she really could send Asami over the roof. There’d be a pillow or a mattress involved, of course, but would it even be possible—

"How about you let Asami off the swing, sweetie? I have a very important mission for you two."

Not as intriguing as the Asami-over-the-roof idea, but Korra could definitely consider herself a fan of missions. She reached out as Asami descended towards her, grabbing her friend’s shoulders and effectively halting any further attempts for the moon. Or the front yard.

"What kind of mission? Me and Asami can do anything, no problem," she assured her mother, making sure that Asami had come to a complete stop before jogging over.

Her mother crouched down, wiggling her fingers around like she was going to tell the two of them something life-changing. "A mission to the dangerous land of Daw's."

Korra groaned, because of _course_ mommy. Of. Course. "That's the _grocery store_ , mommy, that's not _dangerous_."

She huffed. "Well, I wanted to make it interesting. It may not be dangerous, but it is very important—that is," Korra watched her as she shot Asami a sly look, "if you want five-flavor soup for dinner."

 _No way_. Korra spun around, grabbing the other girl by the shoulders with an urgency she needed Asami to understand. "Asami, we have to go!"

She just looked confused. “What’s five-flavor soup?”

Korra’s jaw dropped. Into the ground. Asami may have been her only friend, but Korra decided then and there that the other girl was going to need a serious talking-to and five or six bowls of the Tribe delicacy before she could even consider extending their friendship beyond this one _atrocious_ misstep. Apparently, Asami wasn’t getting the severity of the situation because her cheeks puffed out and she started giggling behind her hands.

"It's not funny!" Korra protested. "You've never had five-flavor soup before?"

Asami shook her head, still giggling. She looked to Korra’s mom for support and like a traitor to the entire Southern Water Tribe, her mother said, “It’s alright if you haven’t, Asami”— _No it’s not_ —“I’m sure you’ll like it.” _Yeah, she better._ “Korra just likes being dramatic.” _What—_

Betrayed by her own mother, Korra snatched the grocery list from her hand and stomped to the front of the house. When she turned back, her mother and Asami had followed her, and again Asami was laughing. Incredible. _Treasonous_.

“I’m _not_ dramatic,” she said with finality, opening the front door and walking down to the sidewalk.

“Have fun my little Drama Queen! You too, Asami.”

Korra threw her hands in the air, making it a point to power-walk down the street as her mother waved to them from the stoop.

Once they had traveled far away from Korra’s house and mother, hell-bent on embarrassing her, Asami piped up, now walking beside Korra. "So what are the five flavors?"

"I can't tell you. Southern Water Tribe secret."

"I bet your mom will tell me."

"Nuh- _uh_."

"I'll ask her when we get back."

Korra scoffed. "She'd never. But"—she paled—"uh… don't ask my dad."

"I'm gonna ask your dad."

" _Asamiii._ "

"What? I want to know!"

Korra made a noise between a whine and a groan, which was decidedly un-heroic, but she followed it up with a silly face that she _knew_ would get Asami every time. It succeeded again, and Korra felt a surge of pride; she enjoyed making Asami laugh. Korra had noticed that sometimes, when Asami didn’t think that Korra was looking, she’d look downcast, like a kicked puppy, and Korra’s chest would hurt like it had on the playground. She hadn’t found any bandages for the chest pain, but when she did, Asami would be getting the first one.

They spent the rest of their walk in companionable silence. Korra found a small pebble to kick around, and passed it to Asami, who wasn’t quite as coordinated with her feet, but she really tried, sticking her tongue out with the effort. After a few kicks, though, the rock ended up in the gutter.

"Sorry," Asami said, and that _look_ crossed over her eyes, but Korra just shook her head.

"Look," she said, and leant down. On the ground, there was another, similar pebble, and she held it out to Asami when she straightened up. "You don't need to be sorry, it's just a rock."

Asami smiled, and Korra returned it, glad to have helped.

They continued their journey down the street, passing the new rock back and forth when Korra caught a noise from an alley along the road. She stopped, and the noise came again, louder this time. A clanking, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. Yes, it _could_ have been an animal, but it _also_ —

"Korra? What's wrong?"

Asami’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts for a moment, but the sound came again—banging accompanied by rattling and short, faraway yelps filtering out from between buildings. Korra turned to her friend, who looked more concerned than anything. She would have nothing to worry about, though. Korra knew for a _fact_ that they could handle whatever could be going on down the alleyway.

“What do you think’s going on?” Asami asked, fiddling with the hem of her blouse.

Korra grinned. “I don’t know. Let’s go check it out!”

She craved adventure—whether it was punching a kid on the playground or chasing after noises in a dark alley, she was up for it all. But adventure, of course, always came with a certain sense of danger. It was a looming presence Korra could definitely feel as she turned into the alleyway,  Asami trailing not far behind.

Barely missing a grayish puddle, Korra stumbled before turning back to Asami, praying that her face wasn’t revealing just how scared she’d become in the previous thirty seconds.

“Come on, Asami!” she called back, trying and failing to inject some bravado into her voice. “We don’t have all—“

Something crashed behind a dumpster, and it took every ounce of willpower Korra could muster to not run screaming. She did, however, settle for startling, because whatever was behind the dumpster ahead of them was probably either: One) a monster; or Two) two monsters.

Korra took a deep breath as she tried to collect herself, knowing that she could take on a monster. She also had Asami with her if there were two, so all in all, they were ready.

“Korra?” her friend’s shaky voice came from behind her. “What do you think’s back there?”

She _would_ have answered, but it turned out that she didn’t _have_ to because as she opened her mouth, a red streak came shooting out from the side of the dumpster, scaring Korra so thoroughly that she went stumbling back into Asami. The impact caused Korra to collapse on Asami—who was already startled and had unsteady footing—right before two boys came running out of a side alley, waving their hands and yelling.

“There it goes!” one of the boys called. He barreled out in front of the other, stopping short when he noticed the girls, fallen in a heap on the concrete. “Wha—who’re you?”

“He’s getting away!” the other boy cried, ignoring the fact that his associate had come to a halt, and slammed hard into his back. “Oof—what’re you doing? He’s getting _away!_ ”

Korra wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. She was on her back, half-fallen on top of Asami, both staring up at two very grimy looking boys who appeared to be chasing some sort of animal in a back alley. Yes, she was relieved that there weren’t any monsters behind the dumpster (not that her and Asami couldn’t have taken them on, of course) but she was also quite baffled at what had happened in the span of a couple of minutes.

Fortunately, Asami managed to compose herself before things could get any stranger, and pushed herself up from the ground. “What are you chasing?” she asked, and Korra was glad that she did, because the thing that had startled her was more blob-like than anything she could have discerned.

“Pabu!” the shorter boy cried, his green eyes watery. “Mako, he’s getting away!”

“You _named_ the spider-rat that stole our lunch?”

“He’s not a spider-rat, he’s a fire ferret! And he was just hungry, you can’t blame him for that.”

“Forget the rat—when was the last time _we_ ate?”

 _That_ didn’t make sense. How hadn’t these dirty-looking boys eaten?

Korra had never been one to mince words. “What do you mean? Don’t you two eat?”

The taller boy frowned, and Korra realized that she’d probably stepped over a line. If her mother were with her, she’d remind Korra to be _sensitive_ , but Korra didn’t like being _sensitive_ —she liked to _punch things_ , no matter how well Mr. Tenzin’s breathing lessons had been going. She was about to say something else, but just as she opened her mouth, something small and furry slammed into her legs, and she ended up on her butt again.

“Pabu, come back!” the green-eyed boy called, resuming the chase. “You can keep our lunch, just get away from the— _street_ — _PABU!_ ”

“Bolin! Stay out of the street!” the taller boy groaned, before turning to Korra and Asami, who had been watching the exchange with mouths agape. Well, Korra realized that her mouth was open when the boy looked at her with angry golden eyes. “ _Well?_ Are you two going to help us?”

Korra bristled, struggling to her feet before she could fold her arms over her chest. “Well we _were_ ,” she started, imitating his tone, “until you were mean.”

The boy’s frown deepened, but instead of fighting back, he pushed past them, calling for the other boy.

“We should help them, Korra,” said Asami, ever the voice of reason. 

Korra knew that she was right, but she also knew how to be stubborn. Her mother told her that she was good at it. However, catching Asami’s pleading look dissolved her hardheadedness in a matter of seconds, and it was another few seconds before the two of them were chasing the animal down the street with two boys they had met in an alleyway.

They _were_ looking for an adventure.

 

* * *

 

“Is it safe to assume that my groceries are still at the grocery store?”

It was easy enough to pick up on Mrs. Senna’s tone—she was not happy. It made Asami feel like she’d failed and the knowledge made her stomach turn. Korra was protesting then, gesturing to their new friends, and maybe if they’d cleaned up before returning, Korra’s mother wouldn’t be frowning like she was.

They had managed to catch the fire ferret the younger boy—Bolin—had named Pabu, in a “high-speed, edge-of-your-seat chase” (Bolin’s words, not hers) through plenty of dirty alleyways. Everything had happened in a blur, and Asami wasn’t even sure how they’d managed to get back to Korra’s house, but Mrs. Senna’s disapproving look was making her want to turn tail and run back to the alley they’d all come from.

Before long, Mrs. Senna was sighing and pulling the four of them into the house, carefully navigating them around clean rugs to the bathroom. She handed Asami and the boys towels and started scrubbing at the thick layer of grime on Korra’s face with a washcloth.

“ _Mo-ooommy!_ I can wash my own face!” Korra wailed, trying to break free from her mother’s grasp and failing dramatically as she threw herself on the ground and allowed herself to be cleaned.

Mako cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “We’re sorry about your floor, ma’am.”

Mrs. Senna chuckled. “There’s a reason we don’t have carpet.” She scrubbed at Korra’s cheek while the girl squirmed and whined. “She’s being a _bit_ of a drama queen.”

Asami couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, and covered her mouth with both hands when Korra caught her with about as menacing a glare as she could manage, dirty and sprawled out on the floor like she was. The state she was in just made the giggles bubble up in her throat and then Bolin had started laughing and the giggles spilled over and Korra’s face yelled _betrayal_ , but the way her shirt had ridden up, exposing her belly—which was also somehow _covered_ in dirt—told Asami that she had every right to continue laughing.

Eventually, Korra’s mother abandoned the washcloth and ordered her daughter into the bath, leaving Asami to sit on the un-carpeted living room floor with the boys.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to talk about. 

It wasn’t like she couldn’t start a conversation, it was just that… well, she’d been relying on Korra since they’d met. As it turned out, however, she would never need to prompt Bolin.

“Do you live here too, Asami?” Bolin asked, and didn’t wait for an answer as he petted the exhausted fire ferret lounging on his lap. “It’s a really nice house! I’ve never seen decorations like these. It looks like a hunter lives here. Are you a hunter, Asami? Is Korra? That’d be the coolest—Mako don’t you think that’d be—“ 

“Bo. Shh.”

Bolin shushed, looking downcast. He turned back to Pabu.

It had been a long time since she’d had a friend, but she’d never been friends with a boy, let alone _two_. Mako and Bolin seemed very different in their own rights, and both were far removed from her and Korra. Since there were just the three of them in the living room, it gave her an opportunity to wonder about them. She was afraid to ask why she and Korra had met them behind a dumpster, and Mako’s words about them not eating rolled around in her mind. It worried her, but she also knew how wonderful Mr. Tonraq and Mrs. Senna were, and hopefully, the boys wouldn’t have to be hungry for much longer.

Asami cleared her throat, moving her legs back and forth uncomfortably. “Have you ever had five-flavor soup?”

It was probably a dumb question, and Mako frowned at her (again), but the question was apparently just another excuse for Bolin to start up again.

“No, what is that? It sounds great! What flavors? I’ve heard of sweet and sour soup, but that’s only two… Is it spicy? Spicy’s a flavor, right Mako?”

He continued the barrage of questions, and this time Mako just leant forward and buried his head in his hands.

Bolin didn’t stop, and Asami just… well, she just stared. She didn’t want to shush Bolin like Mako did, but he’d lost her about a mile back and she couldn’t keep up with a single thing he was saying.

He reminded her a little of one of the businessmen her father had to deal with now and again. His words were like buzzard wasps, moving so fast Asami could never seem to catch a single one. Korra was like that too, Asami realized, but instead of allowing her to get caught up in the typhoon of energy like she did with Korra, Bolin just seemed to be crashing through sentences without any rhyme or reason.

She wasn’t understanding any of it, but she found herself enjoying the barrage. Bolin was fun and loud; it was like Korra, but in a different way. Asami was beginning to realize that she liked fun people.

Mako, on the other hand, remained silent and closed in on himself as he let Bolin yammer. He was more of a mystery, and one Asami wanted to know more about. He reminded her a little more of her father and how reserved he could be.

It took her a moment to register the change, but when she looked back over at Bolin, the boy had propped his head up on his knuckles, leaning forward expectantly as if he was waiting for an answer. 

Asami blinked. “What?”

Bolin took in a deep breath to continue, but Mako cut him off before he could launch into another stream of consciousness. “He asked if you have any brothers or sisters.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t heard that, hadn’t heard anything. “Um, no. Do you?”

“We’re brothers!” Bolin said, gesturing between him and Mako, as if there were other available options in the room. “Don’t we look alike?”

Now that she was looking, she could see the family resemblance, if only vaguely. Mako’s features were Fire Nation, and Bolin’s of the Earth Kingdom, but there was something tying them both to the same bloodline; Asami found that interesting. Her father had spoken, if briefly, about their ancestors from the first Fire Nation colonies. Asami knew her pointed features were traits she shared with many a Fire National, but her eyes were green; they were a shade lighter than Bolin’s, but still very similar.

She didn’t know the boys well enough, but already she felt as if she had something in common, however detached the ancestry might have been.

Before Asami could think to respond to Bolin, they heard the sound of keys scrabbling at the door, followed by a booming, “ _Guess who’s home?_ "

Mako and Bolin froze, which Asami found funny, seeing as Mr. Tonraq was one of the nicest men she’d ever met, and that included her own father.

The combined looks of terror on the brothers’ faces and the following and faraway yelp, “Help daddy, I’m being attacked!” (by a bar of soap, Asami could assume) set Asami back to giggling before she could even try to stop herself.

The boys looked back at her, and she bit her lip, trying and failing to stifle her laughter.

Mr. Tonraq took in the three of them with interest. “Hello Asami,” he said with a smile. “I have two questions I think you can help me answer.”

She nodded for him to continue. In the short amount of time she’d known Korra and her family, Asami had picked up on the host of similarities between Korra and her father, one being the little smirk she could see tugging at the corner of Mr. Tonraq’s mouth. It was the same one that crossed Korra’s face when she had an _idea_.

“First question: why is my daughter screaming from the bathroom?”

Asami had to squirm a little to contain her amusement. “She’s getting a bath.”

Mr. Tonraq hummed. “Open and shut case, that one.” He looked over at Mako and Bolin, who immediately straightened. “Second question: who are these boys and what are they doing in my house?”

Asami was sure she could see Bolin shaking. Mako was sitting like someone had taped a pole to his back, his mouth pressed in a thin line. And she wanted to play along, she really did, but Mr. Tonraq’s Serious Face, coupled with Korra’s screams in the background and the boys, scared silly, did her in again.

Through her laughter, she saw Mr. Tonraq crack a smile, walking over to the brothers and kneeling down to clap them both on the shoulders.

“I’m only kidding, boys, I’m sure you’re Korra and Asami’s friends.” He laughed, and Mako and Bolin hesitantly followed suit, eyes shifting worriedly between Asami and Mr. Tonraq. “However, I’m going to need your names if you want to stay here any longer.”

“I’m Mako and this is my brother Bolin, sir!” Mako yelped, saluting even though it wasn’t at all necessary. Mako was serious for his age, but Asami was thoroughly enjoying the fact that he was also a goofball, it seemed.

“Well, Mako and his brother Bolin,” Mr. Tonraq said, mimicking Mako’s horribly forced military effect to great, well, effect. “I’m taking the girls out for some authentic Water Tribe noodles, and if I’m counting correctly, I have two extra seats left in our Satomobile. Is that right, Asami?”

Asami thought about it. Korra’s parents owned one of the older station wagon models, one the design she knew her father was especially proud of. It had four different _speeds_ , and she remembered her father talking about the powerful engine he’d used. A V6. Asami didn’t know how it worked yet, but it was complicated enough to be the coolest thing she’d ever seen. Oh, but that wasn’t Mr. Tonraq’s question.

“It’s a four-speed V6 station wagon. It has six seats,” Asami affirmed, sure of the model.

Mr. Tonraq nodded at her with a smile. A _proud_ smile. It gave Asami pause. She hadn’t been given that look since… well, since the last time she worked on a project with her father. And _that_ had been…

Before her thoughts could wander too far down, Korra chose that moment to come running out of the hallway, hair wet and bedraggled, shirt on backwards, one pant leg hiked up higher than the other, yelling, “Daddy! Mommy said we’re getting noodles!”

This time, Bolin was the first to laugh, followed _(surprisingly_ ) by his brother.

“Your–your shirt’s on backwards!” he gasped, clutching at his sides.

“That’s not important!” Korra declared, her hands on her hips. “Noodles are important!”

 

* * *

 

Noodles were definitely important.

Asami had hardly made it through the door of the restaurant before her head started spinning, drunk off the mix of spices in the air. There was a thick, heady scent, mingling with a sharpness that tickled her nose. Asami had never smelled anything like it before.

She had never _heard_ anything like it before either. The cacophonous clanging of pots and pans punctuating the sound of loud conversation hit Asami like a slap in the face.

A heavy woman with salt and pepper hair leaned out of the large kitchen window. “Order up!” she roared over the din as she slid two enormous bowls through the kitchen window. She banged her hand against a small gong that hung by her head and ducked back out of view. “Siku! Where are my eggs?”

“Coming, Ma!” came the muffled reply.

A younger, reedy looking man with a pencil thin, over-waxed moustache scooped up the two bowls from the window. “Hey Tonraq!” he greeted. “Sit anywhere you like! Hey Ma! Tonraq is here!”

“Hello, Paka—” Tonraq began.

“Did you say _Tonraq?_ ” A screech came from the kitchen. The woman appeared, hanging almost halfway out of the window. “You _can’t_ have said _Tonraq_ , Pakak. I haven’t seen the likes of him in so long he must be dead!”

Asami looked up at Tonraq, who had lowered his hand and donned a sheepish smile. “Hi, Chena.”

Chena’s head whipped out of sight again. “Siku, hold down the fort for a minute!” The door to the kitchen cracked loudly against the wall as she barged through. “Tonraq! You have some guts dragging your sorry butt back in here after _months_. Months! You had _better_ have brought Senna and Korra or I’ll never forgive you!”

Senna laughed. “He wouldn’t dare come without us, Chena.” Senna nudged Tonraq with a raised eyebrow. “Right?”

Tonraq laughed a little nervously. “Stop getting me in trouble, Chena.”

Chena ignored him. “There’s my little tiger seal!” she said as she reached Korra, arms wide.

“Hi Chena!” Korra greeted as she leapt without hesitation into Chena’s waiting arms.

“Oooff!” she grunted as she hoisted Korra up with surprising strength. “You’re getting too big, little tiger seal! How’s that possible, if you aren’t coming here and eating my noodles to get big and strong?”

Korra giggled. “I’m growing!”

“Are you?” Chena asked in mock disbelief, making a show of looking Korra up and down. “I don’t believe it! Not my _little_ tiger seal! Say it isn’t so!” Her eyes drifted down to Asami and the boys, despite their every attempt to look as small as possible. “Who do we have here?”

“They’re my friends!” Korra said proudly.

“What are your friends’ _names_?” Senna reminded Korra softly.

“Asami!” Korra said immediately. “And that’s Mako and that’s Bolin!”

Chena smiled warmly, and Asami couldn’t help but smile back. She had kind eyes that crinkled at the edges. “It’s very nice to meet you, Asami and Mako and Bolin.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Asami echoed quickly.

“But…” Korra hesitated.

Chena turned back to Korra. “What is it, little tiger seal?”

Korra leaned further against Chena’s neck and cupped a hand around her mouth, whispering something into Chena’s ear. After a beat the woman said, “Oh? Is that right?”

Korra nodded solemnly.

“We can definitely fix _that_ , can’t we?” Chena said with a laugh. “I’m going to make all your bowls _extra special._ Sound good?”

Korra nodded enthusiastically.

“Good,” Chena said with finality. “Now you have to get down, because my arms are about to fall off! Oooh!” Korra jumped out of Chena’s arms, and she straightened. “Good to see you, Tonraq, Senna. Have a seat, will you? No standing on ceremony. Hah! As if.”

“Thank you, Chena,” Senna said as the group picked their way across the room to a table near the back.

Chena waved her off and slammed the door open again. “Six specials, Siku! One large, five mediums!”

“Aw!” Korra protested as she jumped into the chair next to the one Asami had just slid into. “I wanted a large!”

Tonraq laughed as he pushed Senna’s seat in for her and took his own. “Why don’t you try finishing a medium first before you try eating a large?”

Korra pouted indignantly. “I will! Today!"

Tonraq lowered his voice conspiratorially and ducked down closer to Korra. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

Senna swatted at his arm. “Tonraq!”

Tonraq smiled and stroked his beard in thought. “How about… I’ll bet you a _bag_ of kale cookies that you can’t finish a medium!” 

“A bag!” Korra exclaimed. “Not just one cookie?”

“What about us?” Bolin asked, leaning over the table in excitement. “What if we finish mediums?”

“Bolin!” Mako hissed in warning.

Tonraq spoke over him, “Everyone who finishes a medium bowl of noodles gets a _bag_ of kale cookies.”

“Tonraq…” Senna said, covering her eyes in exasperation. “They’re going to kill themselves.”

“What do you get if _you_ win?” Mako asked suspiciously.

Tonraq laughed. “I get the satisfaction of winning! That’s worth more than kale cookies!”

Korra leaned over. “There’s like… _five_ cookies in a bag! Daddy never lets me get more than two cookies! Or maybe there’s four in a bag, I don’t remember. But it’s more than two!”

“Let’s do it!” Bolin said excitedly.

Asami opened her mouth to protest. She needed more information! Just how big _was_ a medium? She had no frame of reference. If she could at least see the small, that would probably help her understand what she was getting into. Also, what was in one of these bowls? Noodles, she knew, but if there were vegetables or meat, that would make her more full—

“You’re on!” Korra crowed confidently.

“Order up!” came the call from the kitchen, followed by the deep clang of the gong. Pakak scooped up the loaded tray, weaving between tables with ease.

Medium, it turned out, was bigger than Asami’s head.

“Alright! Extra fish cake!” Korra exclaimed as she snapped her chopsticks apart eagerly.

Pakak slid Asami’s bowl in front of her, and she leaned forward to look inside. There was a pile of green noodles, with several slices of fish cake, and two halves of a soft boiled egg placed delicately on top.

As intimidated as Asami was, it also smelled incredible.

She snapped her chopsticks apart and picked up the spoon that lay next to her placemat. Just like she had been taught, she delicately twirled some of the noodles into her chopsticks, using the spoon to keep it all together. She raised a perfect bite to her mouth.

It was _delicious_. There was a little spice to it, but not enough to make Asami uncomfortable; it was just enough to make her mouth tingle and feel the warmth spread in her chest and stomach.

So was the fish cake that came after. She chewed slowly, savoring the flavor as she twirled more noodles against the spoon.

“No, not like that!” Korra told her, noodles hanging out of her mouth. She noisily sucked up the stray strands into her mouth. “You have to slurp them!” she said around her mouthful of noodles. “Like Mako and Bolin!”

The boys froze, their heads bowed over the table, noodles dripping from their lips and back down into the bowl. They glanced, wide-eyed, at each other, then at Senna and Tonraq.

Tonraq, holding his own mouthful to his lips, smiled and slurped up the mass noisily. “Just like so!” he agreed while chewing happily.

The boys grinned and slurped up their noodles in quick succession.

Asami placed her spoon down uncertainly. Her father had always taught her that in polite company she had to eat noodles this way…

She glanced at Korra, who was busy swirling the yolk of her egg around her noodles.

Asami shrugged and used her chopsticks to bring a wave of noodles to her mouth and slurped them up, sauce sprinkling her lips.

“Iff’s bedder, righf?” Bolin said, chewing happily.

Asami laughed and dabbed her mouth with a napkin before reaching for her chopsticks again. “Yeah.”

So this was Southern Water Tribe food. It was messy, flavorful and filling, and it made Asami feel warm and happy. Kind of like how she felt when she was just with Korra and her family. She could feel it all the way down in her toes. It made her feel… comfortable. She wondered if her father would like seaweed noodles.

“Iff _so_ goof...” Bolin proclaimed, snapping Asami back to reality as he lifted the bowl to his mouth and shoveled in a fish cake.

“Uh, remember not to overdo it…” Senna warned as she watched the boys absolutely devour their bowls.

“Yeah…” Tonraq said slowly with growing concern. “Everyone can have kale cookies… you don’t have to finish.”

But their words fell on deaf ears. Korra, Mako, and Bolin didn’t even look up from their food. It really was a lot of food… Asami doubted she would be able to finish.

“Korra, you’re going to be sick…” Tonraq said, wincing as he watched her.

“No I’m not!” Korra protested, slurping up another bite, slower this time. “I’m almof done!”

“See what you’ve done?” Senna chided Tonraq.

“Done!” Bolin announced as he collapsed back against his chair, exhausted.

Mako shoved his bowl away and leaned his head on the table. “Me too,” he said to the ground.

Korra plucked the last bit of egg from her bowl, chewing it very slowly. “Me too…” she finally said, sliding out of her chair and onto the ground.

There was a long beat of silence, with three of the group boneless and melted all over the table and chairs, and the adults looking concernedly at them. Finally, Tonraq broke the silence. “Who wants kale cookies?” He winked playfully as Senna slapped his arm. “Ah! I’m kidding!”

Bolin raised his hand feebly. “I do…”

Mako raised his head. “Yeah… just… can I have a minute first?”

Tonraq’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t have to eat them right now! You can take them home!”

Mako closed his eyes and nodded. “Good. Good…” he muttered as he lay his head back down on the table.

“I’m gonna eat mine now…” Bolin muttered before seeming to fall asleep in his chair.

“Asami, would you like a bag of kale cookies?” Senna asked.

“She can share some of mine,” Korra said weakly from the floor. “I only want one. Or maybe two…”

There was a long groan from Bolin as he slumped forward. “Soooo full—”

_Pop!_

After a moment of confusion, Senna asked, “What was that sound?”

“Err—” Bolin looked down at his stomach. “I think the button on my pants just popped off…”

Asami tried to hide a smile, but as soon as Tonraq broke the silence with a loud guffaw, she couldn’t help but laugh too.

 _“Heh—”_ Korra gurgled against the table. “Ha hah—oh no, don’t make me laugh! I’m too full!”

That only made everyone laugh harder, and even Senna let out a peal of laughter from behind her hand. “Don’t worry Bolin,” she chuckled, “I’ll sew it back on.”

“If you can find it!” Tonraq added with another booming laugh.

By the time the last giggle had faded away, Asami’s stomach hurt from laughing so much. “C’mon Bolin, I’ll help you find it.”

“Thanks, Asami. These are my only pair of pants! They’re a little tight but I didn’t think they were _that_ small.” He slid his way down his chair and ducked under the table. “It must be somewhere down here!”

Asami paused. Bolin only had one pair of pants? That couldn’t be right. Asami had at least a dozen. And dresses, as well. But she supposed that Bolin didn’t wear dresses. Or maybe he did. Asami supposed that he could—

Out of the corner of her eye, Asami caught Senna and Tonraq exchange a look. It was one of concern, and said a lot more things than Asami could read. But Asami knew that look. It was one that meant the adults were thinking.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have a nice time? At Korra’s?” Asami’s father asked as she closed the front door behind her.

Asami blinked. She hadn’t expected her father to be home. He hadn’t been home before ten in weeks, by her estimation. But here he was, sitting in his wrinkly leather chair by the fireplace, folding over a newspaper as if nothing were different. It would have made her ache if she hadn’t been surprised. “Daddy…! Hi!”

He smiled warmly. “Hello, Asami… So? Nice time?”

She all but scampered over. “Yes! We went out to dinner!”

Asami’s father tucked his newspaper against his body and the armrest and held out his arm. She crawled into his lap automatically. She didn’t quite fit into the crook of his arm anymore, but she didn’t even notice.

“Dinner out, eh? Where did you go? Wait no, let me guess…” he scratched his chin in thought. “Maybe… Kwong’s?”

Asami shook her head. She liked Kwong’s well enough, but she wondered if Korra and her parents had ever been there. “No, we went to a place called Narook’s! We had Southern Water Tribe Noodles.”

“Oooh, that sounds good. I haven’t had Water Tribe noodles in many years. Don’t tell me you came back without any noodles for your poor Dad.”

Asami ignored his teasing tone. “You’ve had them before?”

“Yes, a long time ago. The last time I was in the Southern Water Tribe.”

Asami readjusted, sneaking her uncomfortably pinned arm out from between her and her father. “Really? What was it like?”

“Cold,” he deadpanned.

Asami giggled and rolled her eyes. “Other than that.”

“But it’s _extremely_ cold! You wear seven layers of clothes and it’s _still_ not enou—”

“Daaad…”

“Okay, okay. Well, let’s see… the sky. The sky is just beautiful. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. Like a painting that’s alive. On clear nights the whole sky is lit up in a whole pallet of colors. It’s incredible… and haunting. Do you know what I mean by that? Haunting?”

“Like… creepy?”

“Mm… not quite. More like… it’s very moving. Emotional, even.”

Asami nodded, filing the knowledge away. “Okay… haunting… Is there a city?”

“Yes, Harbor City. It’s laid out between the ocean and the mountains. It’s not full of tall buildings the way Republic City is, but it’s sprawling—widespread.”

 _Sprawling._ “I would like to see it some day,” Asami mused.

Asami’s father grinned broadly. “Maybe next time I go for business you can join me.”  

That didn’t sound very exciting, but her father looked so happy at the idea. “I would like that,” she agreed anyway. “Maybe Korra could come? She can show us around and we can do all the cool things she remembers doing there!”

“Sure, sweetheart. We’ll see.”

Asami leaned further against her father, content. It had been so long since he had held her like this, she hardly noticed that she had to bend her neck awkwardly to rest her head against his shoulder. She wanted to stay, just like that.

“I have a present for you.”

She picked up her head to look at her father. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Since when does it have to be my little girl’s birthday for her to get a present?” He made to stand, and she reluctantly slid off his lap.

He led her out to the garage, and flicked on the light. There, in the middle of the garage, sat a CB 100cc Satoracer.

Asami’s mouth dropped open. “Wha—”

“Don’t get too excited,” her father interrupted. “It’s broken.”

Asami looked up at her father, confused. “It’s broken?”

He nodded. “It’s yours. If you can diagnose the problem and successfully repair it, then I suppose you deserve to ride it—on the test track _only!_ ” he added as Asami threw her arms around his torso.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome. We can work on it together. I won’t leave you directionless.”

“Yes! Yes, okay! How about right now? Can we work on it now?” Asami asked in a rush.

Her father frowned and looked at his wristwatch. “I don’t think tonight is a good idea, Asami. It’s getting late, you should be getting to bed. I have to work, anyway.”

“Oh… okay…”

“We’ll work on it tomorrow.” He scratched his head absentmindedly. “Or, well, maybe not tomorrow. We’ll do Thursday instead.”

“Okay…” Asami agreed, trying her best to keep the dejection from her voice but utterly failing.

“Let’s go to bed, Asami. The Satoracer will be here tomorrow. And the day after that. It’s yours, after all.”

Her father offered Asami his hand. She fit her hand in his and turned off the garage light. The motorcycle would be there in the morning if she woke up early enough, she figured.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been breathing a whole bunch Mr. Tenzin!”

“Have you?” Mr. Tenzin asked with a smile. “Our exercises? ...Or have you just been breathing?”

“Both! I can hold my breath for thirty seconds now, look!” She sucked in the deepest breath she could manage, puffing her cheeks out with air.

Mr. Tenzin looked concerned, but Korra would show him exactly how talented a breather (or breath- _holder_ ) she’d become in the preceding weeks. She squeezed her eyes shut to focus, clenching her fists because she’d found that the more things she tensed, the better she could hold her breath. Maybe not _longer_ , but it was easier to ignore the overwhelming desire to breathe when her entire body was stiff as a board.

Just when she was sure it had been more like thirty _minutes_ , she felt a hand on her head. “ _Breathe_.”

Her mouth and eyes popped open, and she gasped for air, desperately trying to fill her lungs. “How”—she took a massive breath—“how long was that?”

“Well…” Mr. Tenzin began, looking uncomfortable. “I wasn’t timing, but I am _sure_ it was over thirty seconds.”

 _Darn right._ Korra crossed her arms, nodding up at Mr. Tenzin. “I told you.”

“You did tell me,” he said at length before clearing his throat. “However, that was… not one of the exercises we worked on last time.”

“Yeah, but…” Well, he was right. But Korra had gotten really good at it, especially when she factored in that she’d challenged Bolin to hold his breath the longest and beat him three times in a row!

Mr. Tenzin’s bushy eyebrows shot up when she told him so. Korra thought they looked like fuzzy caterpillar-ants.

“That’s… impressive?” he tried. “Who is Bolin? You mentioned your friend Asami—ah, _many_ times—last session. This is a new name.”

“He’s my new friend!” Korra explained, and then realized that the explanation didn’t _explain_ anything. She went on, “Asami and me met him and his brother Mako in an alley.”

Mr. Tenzin’s caterpillar-ant eyebrows stayed near his nonexistent hairline. “An alley?”

“Mm-hm,” Korra hummed. She plopped down on one of the mats and pulled her legs into the _lotus position_. Mr. Tenzin followed suit, still looking interested in what Korra had said, so she elaborated, “They live in a dumpster, but they had a sleepover at my house last night. I thought it was gross, but Bolin told me that sometimes they find cool stuff. We helped them chase a fire ferret that they found there too! His name is Pabu.”

Mr. Tenzin didn’t seem interested in Pabu, instead asking with a frown, “Where are their parents, Korra?”

Korra frowned. Bolin had told her about that, too. It made her think about the conversation she’d had with her parents and the way her chest hurt when Asami talked about her mother.

“They died,” she said simply.

Her teacher sat back, his expression tight. “I see,” he breathed. She was glad when he didn’t continue that particular line of conversation. “Do you know if they’re enrolled at school with you?”

Korra shook her head. “No. I wish they were. Bolin is a lot of fun and Mako isn’t but he makes faces that me and Asami laugh at.” She smiled, thinking about the way Mako had looked when Bolin had rooted through the trash they’d left on the curb. He’d fallen into the trash can, and Korra and Asami were laughing so hard at the boys that she could barely see Mako struggle to pull his brother out. “It would be a lot of fun if they went to school with Asami and me…”

Mr. Tenzin hummed. He was silent for a moment before he said, “I think we can make that a reality.”

“Really?” Korra gasped, pushing herself forward so she could look closely at her teacher. “How?”

He looked thoughtful. “Well… I would like to meet them, but if they are in need as you’ve said, we would be happy to have them on Air Temple Island until we can find them a permanent living situation,” he explained, looking as if he was piecing together the plan as he spoke, “and I know the principal personally. I would be able to vouch for them as a guardian… they’d have a place to stay… ah, and I would be able to drop them off at the school on my way here for work.”

Korra was speechless. Her new friends would have a place to stay and they’d be at school _and_ they’d be living on the island with all of the flying things? She’d seen it from afar, little white animals floating around—she didn’t know what they were, but the prospect of being able to find out thoroughly excited her.

“And me and Asami could come visit!”

Mr. Tenzin smiled. “Of course you could.” He straightened, pressing his fists together. He angled his head down at Korra, urging her to mirror him. “But before anything else, I think we should work on the real reason you’ve come today, hm?”

Oh. Right.

Korra pressed her own fists together, content with the knowledge that her new friends would have a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **bazaar:** Tadaaaaa
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and you can check all three of us on tumblr: [bazaar](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) [golari](https://golarisa.tumblr.com/) [osmrice](https://osmriceu.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  **golari:** The button exploding off Bolin's pants is definitely not a real thing that happened.


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s not food if you found it in the trash, Bolin. It’s trash.”

“That’s what _you_ think! Just because we live with Tenzin now doesn’t mean we can’t dig in the trash anymore.”

“And… exactly… where was this, Bolin?” Tenzin asked, his caterpillar-ant eyebrows furrowing.

“At school! Someone threw away a whole sandwich—a _whole_ sandwich, Mako—and I took it to class.”

Korra snorted. “He—he ate in class,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath. “I-it was _moldy-y-y_ , _pffft_ —”

“He said that he’d found it in the trash and the teacher looked at him like he was crazy and he got sent to the principal’s office.”

“I had to sit in there and listen to why it’s wrong to eat trash sandwiches,” Bolin shrugged. “I’m going to eat a trash sandwich if I see one.”

Tenzin looked scandalized, and Korra erupted into a fresh peal of laughter at his face, doubling over and almost bashing her head into the desk as she went down. “H-he finished the rest of it in—in the _girl’s bathroom_ —” she squeaked, lungs burning, unable to take in a breath big enough to form a complete sentence. “So the p-principal would—wouldn’t find him!”

To her right, Korra heard Mako groan. He hadn’t heard _that_ bit of information, apparently. His realization only made the situation funnier, and once Korra had thought again of Bolin, sitting under a sink in the girl’s bathroom with a half-eaten, moldy sandwich in his fists, Korra felt like her ribcage was going to break. And it took a _long_ minute to recover, but when she did, Korra looked between the three others; Mako, scowling, arms crossed; Bolin, looking very pleased with himself; and Tenzin, mortified, wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

She almost started laughing again, but Tenzin cleared his throat to speak. “Well, I would advise against these... trash sandwiches… in the future. Didn’t Pema pack you lunch this morning?”

Finally, Bolin had the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, but I was still hungry.”

Tenzin nodded with difficulty. “I suppose I’ll have to let her know to pack more for you.”

Mako scoffed. “Might as well send one of the sky bison over with a ton of food.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea!” Bolin exclaimed, and then, quieter, “Can… can we do that?”

“I’m afraid not,” Tenzin admitted, and did actually look afraid. “We’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”

Bolin quieted down then, and Mako slinked back into his brooding. Their silence drew Korra’s thoughts away from trash sandwiches and back to the dilemma she’d been having, one she hoped Tenzin and the boys would be able to help her with.

She slapped her hands on her thighs to break the lull in conversation and she leaned forward with purpose. “We have to plan a surprise party.”

Bolin’s response was immediate: “ _Ooo!_ ”

And Mako’s, less than satisfactory: “ _Why?_ ” which Tenzin echoed.

She frowned. _How_ could they not _know?_

“It’s Asami’s birthday next week,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world (which it _was_ ), “duh.”

“How would we have known that?” Mako protested.

“How _didn’t_ we know that?” Bolin corrected, looking rightfully upset at himself. “We’re Asami’s friends—we should know her birthday!”

Korra pointed at Bolin with her eyebrows raised and turned to frown at Mako—' _your brother with the trash food has more sense than you, jerkbutt'_ —who frowned right back.

Tenzin probably sensed the oncoming argument (because it certainly wasn’t the first time Mako and Korra had been at each other’s throats) and he began with caution, “Did you have something in mind, Korra?”

She stuck her tongue out at Mako because she could. He opened his mouth in protest, but she’d already started talking over him. “Yes! Asami’s favorite color is red so we can go to the store and get red decorations.” She said it with such finality that it took a moment to register that the others were just staring at her, waiting for her to continue. “...And that’s it.”

“How is that a _party?_ ”

“Well I don’t see _you_ coming up with ideas!”

“That’s because you told us about this five seconds a— _mmph!_ ”

Bolin, ever the mediator, jammed his sweaty palms into both Mako and Korra’s faces, and while Korra wanted to keep fighting Mako (because it was fun and he was always _wrong_ ), the more pressing concern was that she had no clue where Bolin’s hands had been and they’d _just_ been talking about trash sandwiches. She tried swatting him away, certain that she’d already contracted at least five diseases, but he kept both Korra’s and his brother’s mouths tightly covered.

“I have an idea!” he crowed, struggling to keep his hands in place as Mako and Korra jerked around. “Asami likes building stuff, right? We can get her all the things she needs to _build_ her own gifts, and we can surprise her at Korra’s house after school and build her presents with her!”

From over Bolin, Korra could see Mako stop moving and watched as his pointy eyebrows knitted together. She felt her own do the same because that was a surprisingly…

“...Good idea, Bolin,” Tenzin remarked, continuing Korra’s line of thought with just as much incredulity. “I would be happy to take you three to the store to pick up supplies.”

Finally, Korra was able to yank Bolin’s hand away from her face. Thank _goodness_ —it smelled funny. “The tool store!” she exclaimed. “And the party store. We still need red decorations.”

“We could order her a strawberry shortcake from the bakery by Korra’s house. It’s her favorite flavor,” Mako added, having pulled Bolin’s other hand off his face. He looked less fazed by the diseases he had certainly contracted. Or maybe he couldn’t _get_ diseases from Bolin—maybe it was a brother thing—but that was all beside the point.

“How do _you_ know that?” Korra pressed, even though she was pretty sure that Mako was correct for once.

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I don’t know Asami’s birthday doesn’t mean I don’t know _Asami._ ”

Bolin clapped his hands together. “It’s perfect! Cake, build-your-own presents, and red decorations.” He hopped out of his chair and made a beeline for the door. “Come on! We can take Oogi!”

 

* * *

 

“Korra, your hands are sweaty,” Asami complained to the darkness.

Korra’s hands lifted away from Asami’s eyes just a fraction before clamping back down. “Well, _you’re_ the one who can’t be trusted to keep her eyes closed!”

“I couldn’t see where I was going! I was going to hit that pole!”

“That’s what I’m here for, and you were definitely _not_ going to hit that pole—okay, step up,” Korra instructed.

The step was slightly slanted down and to the left, and Asami could smell the honeysuckle that flanked the front door. She suppressed a smile, knowing full well that she was being led to Korra’s house.

“Ta-da!” Korra exclaimed as she finally lifted her hands away.

Asami blinked in the sudden light. Her vision focused on large, red letters that hung across Korra’s front door.

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASAMI_

“Wha—”

The door flew open, and Mako’s voice floated out. “Wait, Bo, we’re supposed to wait—!”

Bolin came tumbling out, tripping over the lip of Korra’s entryway. He flung his arms over Asami’s shoulders heavily, letting her catch him in a hug. “Whoa—uh. Happy birthday, Asami!”

Mako followed closed behind. “Happy birthday, Asami,” he echoed.

“Come on, come on!” Korra whined, tugging on Asami’s hand with her sweaty ones.

Asami let herself be dragged inside, where she was immediately bombarded by red. A red balloon floated inches from her face, tied to some of Korra’s parents’ house plants. Red streamers covered every available surface of Korra’s living room, curling around the banisters and taped up and down the walls like wallpaper.

Asami felt a smile break through her surprise, curling her lips just a little.

“How—?”

“Open your present!” Bolin interrupted as he shoved a messy package into Asami’s hands. It was haphazardly wrapped in cherry red paper, covered with candy canes. “Happy Holidays!” was printed repeatedly all over it.

Korra looked sheepish. “It was the only red wrapping paper they had…”

“Open it, open it!” Bolin repeated impatiently.

Mrs. Senna appeared at the kitchen doorway. “Let the poor girl into the house first!” she laughed. She put her arms out, and Asami automatically went to her for a hug. “Happy birthday, dear,” she said gently.

Asami remembered herself enough to mumble, “Thank you…” against her blouse.

Mrs. Senna left a hand on her back and steered her into the kitchen. In the middle of the table was a large cake, covered in white frosting and decorated with sliced strawberries all over the top.

“Strawberry shortcake?” Asami squeaked.

Behind her, Mako cleared his throat. “Yes, um, well… you said it was your favorite once so I wanted to make sure you had it. For your birthday. Today.”

Asami felt her smile finally crack into a huge grin. This really was all for her! She spun on a heel and gave Mako a hug. He stiffened for a moment, before relaxing just a fraction and patting her back gently.

“Okay, okay enough!” Korra said as she shoved her arms between Asami and Mako, prying them apart. “Present time! Then we can have cake!”

Asami had forgotten the present in her hand. Some of the tape was already unsticking, and the paper was bubbled in weird ways. She began carefully pulling at the remaining tape, taking great care not to rip the badly crinkled paper.

 _“Ugh,_ not that way, we’ll be here forever!” Bolin complained.

“Shh! She can open her present any way she wants!” Korra hissed back. “Even if it _does_ take forever.”

It didn’t take forever. In fact, it hardly took any time at all. After only a few strategic pulls against the tape, the entire packaged unraveled, revealing a build-your-own wooden train set.

“Do you like it?” Bolin asked eagerly. “I picked it out! Er—but if you don’t like it then Mako picked it out.”

Mako rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“I love it!” Asami said quickly. “Will you help me build it?”

Bolin absolutely _beamed_ and Asami couldn’t help but think that that was a better present than anything he could have bought her. “Yes! I absolutely will! We all will, right guys?”

Mako nodded, pleased, but Korra was already halfway to the table. “Yeah, but after cake!”

They all piled into the chairs around the kitchen table while Korra’s mother set out plates. “Asami? Would you like to cut the cake?”

Asami had never cut the cake before. Every other birthday, a waiter had sliced the cake for her and her parents. Maybe in the Southern Water Tribe, you did things yourself. “Yes, I’d like to try,” Asami said with a firm nod.

Korra’s mother presented her with a long, thin knife, handle first. “Be careful, it’s sharp.” And with a quick glance at Korra she added, “Cut _slowly_.”

The cake was much larger than any of the cakes she had had from Kwong’s, but she supposed the cake didn’t need to be so tall when there were only three people.

“Just press down. Let the weight of the knife do the work,” Mrs. Senna instructed.

Asami did as she was told, and the cake parted like butter. She repeated the action, and had a perfect wedge of strawberry shortcake—

—which immediately toppled over as soon as Asami tried to move it. It collapsed onto the plate that Mrs. Senna had waiting. “Perfect!” Korra said from across the table.

Asami pouted. “Perfect? It fell over!”

“So?” Korra said with a shrug as her mother placed the slice down in front of her. “It tastes the same and you got it on the plate!”

“And not on the floor,” Mrs. Senna muttered dryly.

It got easier as Asami kept doling out pieces of cake. Once everyone had one, she took her first bite.

It was delicious. It was even better than the strawberry shortcakes they had at Kwong’s. It was light, and not too sweet, and had more fresh strawberries. Asami bet that her mom would have loved it.

Asami remembered her mother eating slowly, savoring each bite, while her father would quickly devour his slice in only a few, large swallows. Long after he was done, and tapping his feet impatiently, Asami’s mother would be still be eating.

Once they were done, they would go back outside to the motorcycle. Asami was never allowed to ride it, but she enjoyed sitting in the sidecar while her parents rode on the bike. Her mother would help Asami put on her helmet and buckle her into the sidecar before settling in behind Asami’s father.

They would drive up the winding road that led to the overlook, and Asami would glance up and see her mother leaning against her father, her arms tight around his waist. Sometimes, her eyes would be closed, as if she were sleeping.

Asami quickly blinked the tears away. She glanced around nervously, but everyone was too focused on eating their cake to notice her watery eyes. She frowned down at her cake. _That was then, Asami,_ she thought. _This is now. You have friends who care about you and they got you a cake and a present and you’re going to enjoy yourself._

Asami put down her fork. “Can we build the train now?” she asked.

Bolin smiled hugely, licking icing from his lips. “Yes!”

Mrs. Senna stood and started collecting the plates from the table. “Why don’t you all go into the living room?”

Asami picked up her gift from the table, but as the boys marched ahead, Korra put a hand on her elbow to stop her. “Are you okay, Asami? Did you not like the cake?”

Asami gave Korra her best smile. “It was probably the best cake I have ever had.”

The streamers that criss-crossed over the windows gave Korra’s living room a sunny, red glow. Bolin immediately plopped down in the middle of the living room and opened the box, quickly tipping it over. Dozens of wooden pieces spilled out over the rug, and a single piece of paper with instructions, along with a small tube of superglue.

Bolin examined the piece of paper for a fraction of a second before tossing it away. “We don’t need this, we have Asami!”

It really wasn’t a complicated set. The pieces were milled precisely, and fit together easily. It didn’t require all the sanding that Asami’s science project did.

Asami frowned, thinking about her small car, and all the work she had put into it, and how her father didn't even see it.

But that didn’t matter now. Asami was with her friends, friends who cared about her and had remembered her birthday and gotten her a nice gift and—they _were gluing the smoke stack to the wrong side of the train—_

“Wait!” Asami cried, as Korra pressed down the piece, cementing it into place. Asami stopped short, laughing. “That’s the wrong side!”

“It is?” Korra inspected the train from all sides. “Oh! This piece is supposed to be up here—”

Mako snorted with laughter. “That is completely not right!”

“Hey, shut up!” Korra retorted. “Maybe this train only goes backwards!”

Asami doubled over. “That’s not—oh _man_.”

“Uh, guys?” Bolin squeaked. His fingers were pressed together, and he seemed to be struggling to pull them apart. “My fingers are stuck!”

Mako reached over and tried to pull his hands apart. “Bo, what did you do?”

“I just got a little glue—or maybe kind of super a lot of glue on them and now they’re stuck!”

“Bolin, don’t panic—”

"What do you mean don’t panic _my hands are stuck together forever Korra!”_ Bolin screeched. He jumped to his feet, frantically running as his arms stayed locked together. “Mako! Mako what do I do how will I eat? You’ll have to feed me for the rest of my life!”

Mako jumped up too, trying to calm Bolin down. “Everything is fine, that’s not going to happen…”

Asami’s stomach hurt from laughing. She fell to the side, clutching her stomach and crying into the carpet. “Bo… Bolin… it’s okay, it’ll come off...”

 _“How will I go to the bathroom?”_ Bolin cried.

“What’s going on?” Korra’s mother poked her head out of the kitchen just in time to see Mako pinning Bolin down and trying to wrench his hands apart. “What on—”

Mako released Bolin, who was still wailing dramatically. “Mrs. Senna! Bolin glued his hands together!”   

Asami sat up as Mrs. Senna walked into the living room, a small smile on her lips. “Bolin, dear, everything is okay.”

“I’m _dead!_ ” Bolin told her as he kicked his legs out.

“You’re not dead. Come on, let’s get you into the kitchen.” Mrs. Senna wiped Bolin’s face. “Everything is going to be fine, okay Bolin? Take a deep breath for me.”

Bolin took a shaky breath, and hiccuped a little. “There we go, that’s better,” Korra’s mother continued. “Now we’re going to wash your hands, and use some nail polish remover. I’m sure I have some in the bathroom. Okay?”

Bolin nodded silently and stood up.

“Good, come on.” Korra’s mother put a gentle hand on his back, the way she had done with Asami earlier, and led him to the bathroom with Mako following close behind. “Nail polish remover, ma’am? Will that work?”

It was a simple thing. It was just Korra’s mother being, well, a mother. And it suddenly made Asami _ache_. It made the empty part of her chest open up and swallow her whole. All she wanted was her mom. She wanted the gentle hand on her back and warm hugs and everything to be the same as it was. She wanted to go to Kwong’s and ride her father’s motorcycle with her parents and drive to the overlook and see this city and—oh no, oh no. Asami was going to cry. Not now, not now. Not when her friends were here to see her. Not when it was her birthday, and everything was going so well.  

“Asami, are you okay?”

 _Korra_. Asami had forgotten that Korra was still sitting there next to her. Asami turned to her, her eyes swimming. Asami hadn’t wanted anyone to see her, but it was just Korra. Korra wouldn’t judge her. She didn’t have to hide from Korra.

“Can… can we go to your room?” Asami asked, her voice cracking.

Korra immediately took Asami’s hand. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Asami had looked so happy.

She’d smiled when she’d seen the decorations Korra had picked, laughed when Bolin had glued all the wrong sides of the build-your-own wooden train, and after they’d brought out her cake, she’d given Mako a hug when they’d mentioned that he’d chosen it.

But sitting on the floor of Korra’s room, bottom lip trembling—she didn’t look happy. She looked small. Korra didn’t like it.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do when Asami looked sad. She hugged her, as tightly as she could.

“Stay right here,” she grunted, hugging with all her might. “I’m gonna hug the sad away.”

Asami didn’t answer, but she sniffled and laid her head on top of Korra’s, and Korra knew that she’d heard.

They stayed like that for a while, but Korra was okay with it. She knew that if she hugged Asami the best, the sad would go away, if only for the rest of the night. Korra knew she couldn’t find Asami’s mother, nor could she bring her back, but the way Asami had talked about her had reminded Korra of—

“Oh!” The thought hit her like a ton of bricks and Korra let go of her friend. She was on the other side of her room in an instant, throwing the bottom drawer of her dresser open with urgency. She rummaged around, growing impatient as her shirts got in the way of finding what she was looking for. Why did she have _so many_ shirts? “Aha!” she yelled in triumph, holding up the small vial her father had given her. She’d hidden it well. “Asami, I want to show you something.”

Asami looked up, wiping at her eyes. “What is it?”

“So, my daddy gave me this and told me that it’s a _big_ responsibility.” She held the vial aloft so Asami could see it better. “There’s spirit water inside—it comes from the Southern Water Tribe.”

For the time being, it seemed Asami’s sadness had been covered up by curiosity, and she examined the glowing water with her brow scrunched. “What does it do?”

“Well,” Korra thought for a moment, trying to remember exactly what her father had said. “My people… they talk to the spirits a lot! And… when somebody goes to live with the spirits, we use this.” She uncorked the vial, carefully, like her father had shown her. “To honor them! And I thought… well…” The words stuck in her throat then, and she wasn’t sure how to ask.

Asami blinked, watching Korra and suddenly, she was nervous. She was afraid that she’d crossed a line, that Asami might have taken offense. But the way she’d talked about her mother… Korra had only wanted to help.

“For my mommy?”

Korra couldn’t help but give her friend a reassuring smile. “Yeah! I mean… if you want me to.”

Asami smiled back, but it was a sad smile, one that made Korra feel a little funny. A little sad herself, too. Then, she nodded, and Korra offered her an even bigger smile.

“So, can you close your eyes?” she asked, eager to start. “And hold your hands out like I’m gonna give you something.”

Asami followed her instructions, holding her hands out, palms up.

Korra took a deep breath. _Responsibility,_ she thought, _I have a big responsibility._

“Spirits, please hear us,” she said, echoing the words her father had recited.

As slowly as she could manage, she tilted the mouth of the vial against one finger, wetting it with the iridescent water. “We ask for your help in… in bringing Asami’s mommy to peace.” She drew the symbol for _peace_ with water on Asami’s left palm. She turned more water onto her finger. “We ask that… that she be remembered by—by everyone that loved her.” She drew the symbol for _love_ on Asami’s right hand, then wetted her thumb. “We honor her this day, and to the end of days.” She pressed her wetted thumb to Asami’s forehead, and drew the symbol for _honor_. “...Thank you, spirits.”

Asami was silent as Korra corked her vial, placing it back in her dresser where it would be safe. When Korra turned back, Asami’s eyes were open, but she still held her hands out.

“You can put your hands down now,” Korra said. “I finished it. I hope that’s okay…”

It wasn’t uncomfortable, the way Asami stared at her, with her hands still facing up, resting on her knees. It gave Korra pause, though, because she’d never seen Asami look at her like that. She’d never been _looked at_ like that. Asami looked like she was… taking her in, maybe? Her eyes searched, lips slightly parted, and Korra wondered if she wanted to say something.

“Asami?” she tried. And then, not pressing, “You can talk now, if you want to.”

“You’re my best friend.”

 _That_ was unexpected. Nice— _really_ nice, but unexpected.

“You’re my best friend, too,” Korra replied, like it was the easiest thing in the world. And it was. So Korra figured since it was so nice and easy, it provided the perfect segue for her next question: “Do you want more cake?”

Asami nodded, and Korra couldn’t help but think that her ritual helped, because Asami was smiling again when she stood to hug Korra before they returned to the living room.

They did eat more cake—a _lot_ more cake. Korra watched as Asami picked the strawberries out of her frosting so she could eat them separately. Bolin gave both of them hugs, and when they’d asked, he’d explained that he “just really wanted to,” and also because Mrs. Senna had freed his hands from their fate and he had attached himself to her leg, overcome with gratitude. Now he just had more people to hug, which wasn’t a bad thing. Mako sliced extra pieces of cake once they’d finished their first ones, and she saw him really, genuinely smile when he handed Asami her piece.

No one asked where they had gone, no one brought attention to Asami’s earlier mood. It was all fun, all laughs, all light.

And Korra wanted to cry.

It confused her, because looking around at her friends—friends she hadn’t had a few months before—she was happier than she could ever remember being. She remembered her mother saying once that tears could be happy, but Korra had never _done that_. Why did she have to happy cry? Why couldn’t she just be happy?

She was stemming the tears well, enjoying her cake and the company, but then Bolin drew a frosting mustache on himself, and shoved cake in Mako’s face, and Asami started laughing louder than she’d ever heard her before, and Korra couldn’t help it.

Bolin froze first, frosting drooping off his upper lip. “Korra! Korra, why are you crying?”

She hiccupped, taking in her friends’ shocked faces.

“I—I’m really, _really_ happy.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you…— _erp—_ do you think there’s more cake?” Bolin asked from the floor of Korra’s room.

Korra peeked over the edge of her bed to look down at him. “You want more? You had like, half of it!”

“Did not!” Bolin protested just as his stomach gave a loud, angry rumble. “Oof… I just don’t want it go to waste!”

Mako was sitting on the floor, spinning the wheels of their completed wooden train. “Let it go, Bo. Someone will eat it, it won’t end up in the trash.”

“Even if it does, Bolin will still eat it,” Korra giggled. She scooted back along her bed, until her shoulder found Asami’s, who was leaning against the pillows. Asami liked how easily they touched now, like it was no big deal. “So what should we do now?” she asked.

“Whatever it is, can we do it lying down?” Bolin asked.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Korra’s mother poked her head in. “Asami? Your father’s here to pick you up.”

Asami didn’t respond right away, surprised. There had been so much going on, and she had been having such a nice time that she had mostly forgotten about her father. Mostly.

“You have to go so soon?” Korra asked.

Asami smiled as she moved onto her knees in front of Korra. “I’ll see you tomorrow! I had the _best_ birthday.”

Now, Korra’s grin matched hers.

Bolin’s hand appeared at the edge of the bed. “I would give you a hug but I think my butt is stuck to the ground.”

“I thought we agreed no more playing with super glue,” Mako said with a laugh as he stood. “Happy birthday, Asami.”

“Thank you.”   

Her father was waiting by the door, talking quietly with Korra’s mother. In his hand was a plain, square, cardboard box. As soon as he caught her eye, he stopped speaking mid-sentence and turned to her. “There she is, the girl of the hour.”

Mrs. Senna laughed. “The whole day, I should think!”

Asami’s father smiled. “Quite right. Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He leaned down and gave her a light kiss on the forehead as he pressed the cardboard box into her hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to have it wrapped, it just arrived.”

“Should I open it now?” Asami asked.

He nodded. “You’ll need it.”

Asami pulled the locking tabs from their slots and opened the box. Carefully nestled inside a ring of cardboard was a helmet.

A motorcycle helmet.

She pulled it out gently, with reverence, letting the box fall to the floor without a second thought. The helmet gleamed in the light of Korra’s hallway. It was a glossy red, with the Future Industries’ logo embossed in gold and black on the front.

“Isn’t that snazzy?” Korra’s mother observed.

“Ooh, put it on, put it on!” Bolin called from Korra’s bedroom door, where they were all huddled, watching.

Asami looked up to her father for approval, and he nodded.

It fit her perfectly, and Mrs. Senna helped her buckle it into place and adjust it to her chin. Her father, meanwhile, opened the front door. There, parked in the street in front of Korra’s house, was her father’s motorcycle. This time, there was no sidecar.

“Shall we?” he asked with a small smile.

If you had asked her before that moment, Asami would have claimed that she had ridden a motorcycle before. But in that instant, she decided she really hadn’t. The sidecar had never really counted.

She was dimly aware that Korra, Mako, Bolin and Korra’s mother had all crowded around the front door as Asami and her father walked down to the street and were calling to her, telling her to have fun and more “happy birthday”s but she hardly heard them.

Her father straddled the bike, but instead of seating her behind him, like where her mother would’ve been, he helped her into place between him and the _handlebars_. “Put your hands on mine,” he directed as he flipped the _ignition_.

“This is the hand clutch,” he explained as he squeezed the lever just behind the handlebars.

_Hand clutch._

“Then,” he continued, “the kickstarter.” He pushed his leg down hard against the _kickstarter_ , and the motorcycle roared to life before settling into a heavy thrum beneath them.

“To the hill?” her father asked in Asami’s ear.

“To the hill!” she shouted, her response almost lost on the wind as they peeled away from the curb.

There was the familiar hum of the motorcycle, but now it was all around her, the bike eating road beneath her and wind streaming through her hair.

She felt her father’s arms bracket her tighter, and they leaned into a curve. She leaned with him easily, without hesitation.

They left Korra’s neighborhood and began to speed through the city, lights blurring and then beginning to fade as they drove further and further. Then up, up into the hills that overlooked Republic City. The air turned cooler, the sky darker and Asami shivered, but didn’t shy away from the wind. It was too liberating. The air smelled like pine needles and wood fires and just a little like exhaust.

They had taken this ride up to the overlook every year on her birthday since she could remember. After her mother died, Asami hadn’t really expected to ever come back again.

Her father pulled up to the overlook, and turned off the motorcycle. He unbuckled his helmet and left it on the seat as he dismounted. “Here, I’ll help you take that off,” he offered as he moved to her helmet.

She shook her head. “I want to leave it on.”

“Oh.” He straightened. “Okay.” He offered her a hand and helped her off the motorcycle.

They didn’t talk right away. They sat on the crooked bench by the tree and looked out over the city, watching the shimmering lights. Finally, after several minutes, her father broke the silence.

“What did you do today?”

Asami smiled, remembering. “We had a party. Korra decorated—”

“So I saw,” her father interrupted dryly.

“And we built a wooden train together. Bolin got his fingers stuck together.”

Her father gave a loud guffaw. “Super glue, was it?”

Asami giggled. “Yes.”

Her father’s chuckles died down. “What else?”

Asami hesitated, but finally said, “We had a strawberry shortcake.”

“Oh? Your mother would have loved that.”

It was the first time her mother had been mentioned between them that night. It was the first time her mother had been mentioned in weeks, if Asami really thought about it. The air was thick with her presence, even without mentioning her. Maybe it was even because of the avoidance.

“Homemade?” her father asked.

“No, it came in a box. A lot bigger than Kwong’s though, which is good because Bolin ate almost half of it himself.”

He nodded knowingly. “That kid definitely has an appetite.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Asami wondered how he knew that.

“Your mother always wanted to make one from scratch for you.”

Asami looked up in surprise. “Really?”

A smile creeped up over her father’s face. “Yes, but of course you remember what an awful cook she was.”

Asami blinked. She did? She was? Asami scratched her head in thought.

…Yes, of course. Her mother _was_ an awful cook. How had she forgotten?

“Yasuko was many amazing things, but a cook she was not,” her father continued with a laugh. “Remember when she filled the kitchen with smoke just trying to make scrambled eggs and toast?”

Asami _did_ remember! “The whole house smelled like burnt, wet eggs for weeks! It was the _worst_.”

Her father’s laughter echoed all over the overlook. “She could hardly make oatmeal. But she wanted to cook for us so _bad_.”

“You know you’re not a very good cook either, Daddy.”

Her father put a hand on his chest dramatically. “Hey now! I resent that!” He ruffled her hair playfully. “You’re right though. I never did care much for cooking. With your mother though, it was like everything came easily for her. But she couldn’t quite get the grasp of cooking, for some reason. I didn’t care, of course, but for her it was like a failure. Like she couldn’t be a good mom if she wasn’t a good cook.”

Asami’s smile faded. “She was a good mommy,” she said quietly.

After a long pause, her father agreed. “Yes, she was.”

It was a confusing feeling. It was sad to think of her mother, yes, but Asami was also happy that they were talking about her. Vaguely, Asami remembered a word that she had learned from school earlier that week: _bittersweet_.

It felt bittersweet to think about her mother, but in the sweetness Asami felt… happy.

She had felt happy all day.

It had been so long since Asami was able to just be _happy_ , without feeling guilty. Without feeling like she wasn’t allowed, or that it was wrong to be happy.

She had spent so long being sad.

Of course Asami felt sad a lot. But since meeting Korra, and her other friends, there were times when she forgot her sadness, if only for a little while. Asami had felt for long that by being happy, she was also being… almost disrespectful to her mother, and that being sad was the only way to show how much Asami loved her, and missed her.

But maybe that wasn’t right.

Maybe her mother would want Asami to be happy. Maybe her mother would be glad that Asami had made friends, and laughed and joked just like every other kid in her class. Maybe if her mother was alive, the party would have been at home. Maybe her mother would have tried to make the cake herself, like Asami’s father suggested, and it would have turned out slanted and messy or maybe even burnt and charred. And then her mother would have gone to Kwong’s and ordered a strawberry shortcake to go for everyone.

In the time since her mother had died, Asami had forgotten that her mother wasn’t perfect.

But she was still a good mommy.

Asami looked up her father, his eyes reflecting the lights of the city. He wasn’t perfect either.

He looked down at her with a gentle smile. “Ready to go home?”

Asami nodded, her helmet wiggling. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **bazaar** : I was supposed to put this up yesterday. Alas, I am shit. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy! If you've got questions for any of us, we're all on tumblr: [bazaar](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) [golari](https://golarisa.tumblr.com/) [osmrice](https://osmriceu.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

>  **bazaar** : I am so unbelievably happy to let this monstrosity out of the basement. I wanted to write this for the LoK Big Bang all the way back in the spring of 2015, but it sat at about a chapter and a half until I made friends with the inimitable golari after she’d finished her masterpiece, [Company](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5252555/chapters/12120038), (go read it if you haven’t) and we decided to work on this together.
> 
> I am not fucking around when I say this has been a journey. When golari and I started corresponding, it was early last year, and it took a few more months to start writing. We didn’t do much of anything for about a year after we’d written the first scene or two, but then one offhanded remark about riding real Mario Karts in Japan spurred the rest into existence. I’m not kidding. We met in person for the first time in Japan. Two idiots from the US sat in an apartment in Tokyo and planned out this fic. And a _massive_ , additional thanks has got to go out to our wonderful beta, osmrice, without her, well… this story would be completely incoherent. Again, not kidding.
> 
> That’s the story of the story. I sincerely hope you all enjoy _Past Is Prologue._
> 
> You can find all three of us on tumblr for questions or screaming or anything in between: [golari](http://golarisa.tumblr.com/) [bazaar](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) [osmrice](http://osmriceu.tumblr.com/)


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